


Brave the Sea

by chooken



Category: Westlife
Genre: Best Friends, Bullying, Childhood Trauma, Closeted, Cruise Ships, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Time, Friendship/Love, Idiots in Love, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pretending to Be Gay, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 21:02:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 45,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13935348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chooken/pseuds/chooken
Summary: Nicky is dumped two days before a romantic cruise, so of course he invites his best friend to take Georgina's place.





	1. Chapter 1

Mark really hadn't been expecting a knock at six in the morning.

He generally didn't expect anything at six in the morning. Six in the morning was for sleeping through, or possibly for falling into bed after a big night out. He'd heard once that people sometimes went jogging at six in the morning, or got up early for work, though he was writing that off as a myth until he saw evidence to the contrary.

This particular morning he stumbled to the door to find Nicky staring at him, cheeks wet.

“Who's dead?” he said, immediately. Nicky burst into tears. Suddenly, Mark was very awake. “Oh shit.” He cleared his throat. “Is it Georgina? Are you...”

“She dumped me.” Mark sagged with relief, pulled his friend into a numb sort of hug. Nicky heaved.

“What, just now?”

“Last night.” A pitiful hiccup lurched out of Nicky's chest. Mark tried not to laugh. This was too early, too absurd.

“Okay, well...” He looked helplessly around the room, glad his room-mate had already gone home for the holiday. Todd's side was an utter state, but Mark pushed aside the messy duvet he'd just left to let Nicky sit on his own bed. His friend sort of crumpled forward, head in his hands when Mark let go to put the kettle on. “What happened?”

“Dunno. She just...” The kettle started to boil, a sullen drone. “We went for dinner, and we were talking about the cruise, and she just... I dunno. All of a sudden she said she couldn't do it. That maybe we shouldn't...” He looked up, staring blankly towards the closed window. “I was going to propose.”

“Oh... shit.” Mark bit his lip. “What, last night?”

“On the cruise. Figured it'd be romantic. She's always wanted to go to France, so...”

“Fuck.” Mark sat down beside him. The kettle was still boiling. “I'm really sorry, Nicky.” He didn't know what else to say. His eyes were still half gummed with sleep, his hair was all over the place, and he'd barely woken up. Nicky didn't look like he's slept at all. “Do you want to stay here today? I'm not doing anything, and...”

“Yeah,” Nicky mumbled. Mark nodded. “Thanks.”

“It's okay.” The kettle clicked off. “You want the usual?”

“Yeah.” Nicky drew his knees to his chest, closing his eyes. He looked very small, like he was trying his hardest not to exist. “My mam was excited,” he whispered.

Mark didn't know what to say to that. He just nodded, and set about making the tea.

  
  


*

  
  


They didn't talk much that day. Mark didn't push it. It was almost as if Nicky wasn't there, just kept to himself, existing quietly in Mark's room. Mark let him be, went to have a shower in the communal bathroom down the hall and came back feeling slightly more awake to find Nicky curled under his blanket, sobbing quietly. Mark didn't comment, just put a hand on his shoulder, squeezed, then went to make another pot of tea.

It was well into the afternoon, Mark sat on the armchair with a pot-noodle, that Nicky spoke.

“I'm really angry.”

Mark nodded. He'd liked Georgina enough, but didn't feel comfortable saying anything for or against in case it was the wrong thing. He'd always liked Nicky better. They'd met at the university bar three weeks after Mark had started at Trinity, at a karaoke night Nicky had been running, and hit it off over a couple of pints. It had been nice. Mark had been new in Dublin, and maybe that had been part of it, the first person he'd had a proper conversation with since he'd arrived, but the next week when Nicky had come back Mark had been there, had felt a gulping leap of relief in his stomach when Nicky had grinned, stuck out a hand, and said he was glad to see him.

Almost three years later they were firm friends. They got along on most things, shared a sense of humour, and even when Nicky had gone away to do his Garda training they'd kept in touch. Mark suspected the only people he spoke to more than Nicky were his parents.

He hadn't been jealous of Georgina, when she'd started taking up Nicky's time. Had been happy for him. Now he wasn't sure how to feel.

“Why are you angry?”

“Because...” Nicky sighed, and rolled onto his back. “It's going to sound really fucking petty.” Mark shrugged. “It just... it feels like I've wasted two years, you know?”

“You'd take it back?”

“No. Yes. I don't...” He folded both arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling. “I love her. I loved being with her. Every moment. But what was the point, really? When I could have been with someone who...” A tear spilled from his eye and began to make a track down his right cheek. “She said she'd been feeling off for a few months. So what does that mean? That she was lying to me? Or was I just too stupid to notice? I feel stupid,” he added, before Mark could reply. “I feel like a fucking idiot who was happy while she was...”

“You're not stupid.” Mark put down the pot-noodle on the top of the stereo speaker beside him. The room was a bit like that. One thing on top of the other, not so bad if somebody could be bothered to keep it tidy. “If she wasn't serious, why did she organise the trip with you?”

“Something must have happened, then. Maybe I did something.”

“Did you?”

“She said I didn't.” Nicky bit his lip. “She said...” His voice broke. “She said we were too intense. That maybe she needed some time to find herself before we got serious. I was going to fucking _propose_. I spent all my fucking savings on a holiday and a ring, and now...”

“Can you get the money back?”

“It's booked. We were supposed to leave day after tomorrow.”

“Ouch.”

“I suppose I can pawn the ring, maybe, but...” He rolled onto his side. Utterly defeated. It wasn't the money, so much, Mark knew, it was the investment. The time Nicky had spent wanting to make this perfect, putting all his heart into it. Nicky was like that, especially when it came to romance. He couldn't just take a girl to the fair, he had to book out the ferris wheel and bring champagne. Mark had always thought it sweet.

“Why don't you go anyway,” he suggested. “Maybe it'll be good for you. Spend some time away.”

“I'm sure I'd be brilliant trapped on a ship for two weeks.” Nicky laughed brokenly. “I could gamble the last of my savings, drink myself into a puddle, then throw myself off after the last stop. Let the sharks have me.”

“Wasn't that what you were going to do anyway?”

“Fuck off.” Nicky threw a pillow at him. Mark deflected it, laughing. Saw a twinkle dance in Nicky's eyes before he buried his face in the covers. “Urgh.”

“Urgh,” Mark agreed. “I'm sure there'd be some single girls on the cruise. Maybe you could have a rebound?”

“We broke up nineteen hours ago.”

“Plenty of time.” He leaned forward to pinch Nicky's toe, which was sticking out of the end of the duvet. It yanked away with a squawk. Mark grabbed his ankle, began to tickle the sole of his foot instead. The duvet began to buck, twisting while outraged giggles came from inside the cocoon.

“Stop it!”

“Can't hear you.”

“Mark!” The duvet flipped up, and before Mark knew it it was over his head, down around his waist. Strong arms wrestled him face-down onto the bed and he shouted when he felt fingers jab into his sides, thighs pinning him down. He tried to escape, but it was no good, suffocated in the duvet and Nicky's hands torture.

“I surrender!” he yelped. Heard a laugh. Then he was free. Wriggled out to find Nicky grinning at him, hair a mess and eyes red and puffy, laughter jolting out of his chest. Mark kicked him. “I hate you.”

“Hate you too.” Arms reached out. Mark flinched away. “I'm going to hug you, bell-end.”

“Oh.” Mark allowed it. Felt Nicky peck his cheek. He squeezed tight for a second, then let go. “I'm really sorry,” he said helplessly. “I'm sorry that you're sad and I can't fix it.”

“I know. Me too.” Nicky squeezed his knee. “Thanks.” He glanced at Mark's pot-noodle. “Do you have more food? I'm hungry.”

“You can finish that, if you want.”

“Real food.” Mark shrugged. He was second year Arts degree. That _was_ real food. “Something where 'add water' doesn't make up the entire recipe.”

“I can make toast?”

“Right.” Nicky rolled his eyes, then reached for his phone. “I'm calling pizza. You should go find vodka.”

“Should I?”

“You should.” Nicky began to dial. “Go on.” He shooed.

“I don't have any money.”

“Oh for fuck's...” Nicky threw his wallet at Mark's head. “Take money. Find vodka.”

Mark flipped it open. There were a few twenties and a fifty. He pulled out the twenties, paused. Photo of Nicky and Georgina tucked into the fold, taken in one of those photo booths. Four cute pictures. Two smiling, one pulling faces, one a tender kiss, both lost in it and eyes closed. He tucked them deeper, feeling his heart break for his friend. Nicky didn't notice, was busy talking to the pizza place.

Mark handed him back the wallet and left.

  
  


*

  
  


Mark wasn't back in the room long with a cheap bottle he'd bought at the off license down the street when a tired-looking girl arrived, thrust a pizza and a large bottle of Coke at him, and left with the money. Mark put the box on the floor, then sat down beside it. Nicky joined him. It was nice, a little picnic in the middle of the tiny, messy room.

“Say when.” He began to pour the vodka, slowing when 'when' didn't come. It still hadn't come a few drops later, so he stopped anyway, added cola as a dressing to the half-full glass, and handed it to his friend, who took an absent sip, then coughed.

“Bit strong?”

“You didn't say when.” Nicky took another sip. Mark took a slice of pizza. The cheese burnt the roof of his mouth, so he took a quick swig from the cola bottle, then put it back down. Nicky raised an eyebrow. “Burnt my mouth.”

“Germing up the bottle?”

“I'm pretty sure the vodka'll kill my cooties.” He began to pour himself a drink. Nicky was back to looking blank again. Not as bad as before, but a bit out of it, sort of generally detached, though that might have been because he was halfway through his drink already. “Have you told your parents?”

“No.” Nicky bit his lip. “Didn't know how, honestly. I kind of walked around for a few hours, then when it got light I came here.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry.”

“It's fine. Course it is.” He smiled, and had another go at the pizza slice. Still too hot. “I'm on holidays for like five more weeks, so feel free.”

“You're not going home?”

“No.” He wasn't, this time. Often did, but the last few months had been weird and stressful, and he'd needed some time to decompress. To spend time on his own, and maybe work out some of the mess in his head. The thoughts he'd spend the last ten years ignoring that had suddenly decided they weren't just odd impulses and meaningless dreams. The ones he didn't know how to talk to his family about. Not yet.

“Why not?”

“Dunno. Thought I'd have some me time.”

“I'm intruding, then.”

“You're not,” Mark assured him. Nicky was looking wary. “You're really not. Just... families, you know? I'll pop up for a visit, but I couldn't do it for the whole time, not without going mad. Anyway, I'm starting my prac next semester, so it's probably good to destress a bit before that happens.”

“You looking forward to it?”

“Yeah. Should be fun.” He was bricking it, but it was definitely exciting. “I'll be doing ninth and tenth class Religious Studies at a school in Baldoyle. Got my letter back the other day.”

“Which school?”

“Erm...” Mark reached into the top drawer of the desk beside him, rummaged, then came back with a piece of paper. He blinked at it. “Pobascoil Neasain.”

“That's my old secondary! Nessan's!” Nicky tried to clap, then appeared to remember he was holding a drink and a slice of pizza. “Small world!”

“I guess so.” Mark smirked. “I'll have to ask around, see if any of the old teachers remember an annoying shit called Nicholas Byrne.”

“Glowing reviews all round.” Nicky grinned. “Wait, the other day? Why didn't you tell me?”

“I called. You were busy.”

“Oh.” Nicky winced. A few days before, when he'd rung and Nicky had said he'd call back, then hadn't. “Sorry. I was with...”

“It's fine. I figured.” He took a bite of his now-edible pizza. Nicky took a long swallow of his vodka. “But honestly, I'm not really doing anything for the next five weeks and Todd's away until the end of holidays.”

“Is he ever here?”

“True.” Mark barely saw the guy. He was more a messy ghost, than anything. Sometimes Mark wasn't even sure he was real. “Hang out here, if you want. We'll drink and watch movies and if you don't feel like going home I'll clear off Todd's bed.”

“Won't he notice?”

“I'll put the mess back before he gets in. He'll never know.” Nicky snorted. “Maybe it's not as nice as a cruise, but...”

“I appreciate it.” Nicky drained the last of his glass. “Would have been shit anyway. Who needs romantic carriage-rides around Spain when I can sit in Todd's mess.”

“I bet the food wouldn't have been as good as this.”

“You mean the complimentary buffets and ice-cream bar? Definitely not. And that fine dining experience I booked probably would have had wines I couldn't pronounce. Sounds pointless.”

“Terrible,” Mark snorted. He realised Nicky was smiling at him. “What?”

“Nothing. Just... I'm glad you're here.”

“Oh.” Mark picked up his glass, clinked it with Nicky's. “No problem. I'm glad you're here too.”

“Thanks,” Nicky chuckled. Mark realised his glass was still held out. “Fill up?” Mark nodded and obliged. “Thanks, barkeep.”

“Bet their cocktails wouldn't have been as nice as this.”

“Definitely not.” Nicky reached for another slice of pizza. “This is the life.”

  
  


*

  
  


Nicky slept on Todd's bed that night. When Mark woke the room was empty, though ten minutes later, Mark still blearily trying to find his watch, Nicky strode back in the door with a towel around his waist and hair wet, eyes red but looking more clear than they had the day before.

“Morning,” Mark croaked. Nicky smiled at him.

“Had an idea.”

“Oh. Good.” He found his watch. He began to wrap it on while Nicky stood triumphantly in the doorway. “Um.” Everything tasted like carpet. The bottle on the floor was emptier than he remembered. “What's your idea?”

“Come on the cruise with me.”

Mark looked up in surprise. Nicky grinned. Mark sat down heavily on the bed.

“What?”

“Come on the cruise. I've got two tickets, it's all booked, and I don't want to go on my own.”

“Er...” He ran his hands through his hair. Nicky was still staring at him. “I don't know?”

“Why not?”

“Because it's before eight in the morning and I've just woken up?” He looked back at Nicky, who was beginning to deflate slightly. “I can't just pack up at short notice and sail to France.”

“Why not? You said you weren't doing anything.”

“Yeah, but...” Mark bit his lip. Nicky was right. He wasn't doing anything. Just sitting around with his thoughts and his room-mate's mess. He had five weeks off. This was an adventure, maybe. Something impulsive to do. And Nicky had already paid for everything...

“Please?”

Mark decided.

“You said there was a complimentary buffet?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

The port was busy. Mark dragged his suitcase through the terminal, following along behind Nicky, who was moving purposefully. The last twenty-four hours had been madness. Nicky had called, made sure he could transfer the ticket into someone else's name, then it had been searching for Mark's passport, throwing clothes into a bag, and calling Mark's parents so they'd know he'd be out of contact for a couple of weeks.

The last job had been to drive to Nicky's parents' place to grab his bags and say goodbye. Mark stayed in the car. He wasn't sure if Nicky had told them it wasn't Georgina in the passenger seat, and supposed it was none of his business. Maybe it was easier not to. Nicky had funnelled his focus into organising, but he was still fragile. Mark had heard him crying the night before, and he'd come in from his shower that morning with red eyes and a trembling mouth.

“Hurry up!” Nicky laughed. Mark realised he'd fallen back, and sped up, pulling alongside Nicky, their suitcase trundling in unison on their tiny wheels. “Ticket and passport?”

“Here.” Mark held them up in his free hand. They stopped in front of the luggage carousel.

“Here we go.”

“Last chance to bail out,” Mark noted. Nicky shrugged.

“Do you want to?”

Mark tossed his suitcase on the conveyor in reply. Nicky grinned and did the same. They watched them disappear through the curtain at the end, off to wherever they went. A hand clapped down on his shoulder.

“Thanks for doing this with me.”

“No problem.” Mark leaned in for a hug. Then realised they were blocking the carousel. He laughed and let go, moving aside, and for a moment his eyes caught. On a face that looked familiar for half a second, on the other side of the terminal.

He blinked, stomach dropping. The face was gone, swallowed up by the crowd.

“What?”

“Er... nothing.” Mark shook his head. No. He'd been imagining it. “Thought I saw something.” Nicky was looking at him expectantly. “Boat?”

Nicky snorted and began to drag him towards customs.

  
  


*

  
  


It took almost an hour to actually make it on. There was security and bag checks and a very cute drug-sniffing Springer Spaniel that Mark had to stop himself from patting when it nosed happily at him then moved on.

Finally they were allowed up the gangplank and to their room. The hallways were jammed with people, most of the rooms with bags outside the doors and porters running back and forth to bring more up. A couple of girls pushed past, already in bikinis and sunglasses, giggling and rubbing sun-cream on themselves.

Nicky unlocked the door.

“Wow.” Mark stepped in. Nicky hadn't been wrong about doing the full romance. Balcony and portside view. They were about halfway up, peering out over the harbour. Obviously one of the more expensive rooms, with a small kitchenette and a queen sized...

Bed.

“Erm...” Mark hesitated. Nicky realised where he was looking and shrugged.

“Yeah. Well.” He pushed his suitcase into the corner. “I didn't really organise for bunks, did I?” The look he shot Mark was slightly nervous. “Do you mind?”

“No. Course not.” He didn't. They were friends, they could share a bed. It wasn't like anything was going to happen. “Right or left?”

“Left.” Nicky pushed open the door in the corner, and Mark peered around to see a tiny bathroom with a shower stall, toilet, and sink. He used the toilet quickly, then they headed upstairs for muster, stood there half paying attention while they got shown where the emergency exits were and what to do if someone went overboard.

Nicky yawned as it finished.

“You want to go to the bar?”

Mark did.

The walk upstairs was winding. Mark hoped he could find his way back. Long corridors and stairs and elevators. They each had a lanyard with a swipe-card on it to use as a door key and as an expense card, but apparently most of the food, drinks and amenities were free. Nicky ordered them two Long Island ice-teas to take for their stroll around the pool, weaving through the crowd, the music loud and everyone crammed on deck for the departure party.

“Aren't you glad you didn't stay in your room all holiday?”

“I am.” They found a couple of spare deck-chairs and spilled back into them. Mark took a sip of his drink. “I'm sorry I'm not Georgina.”

“Let's... not talk about it.” Nicky pursed his lips, face a struggle for a moment, then forced a smile. “Let's get very drunk instead.” Mark snorted, letting his gaze skim over the deck. Seemed like the usual cast of middle-aged couples, lads' holidays, and families. “You don't get sea-sick, do you?”

“No.” He'd spent most of his childhood on the lake, mucking around in dinghies and riding jet-skis. “You?”

“No idea.” Nicky stretched. “It's a beautiful day, I'll give it that.” It was. Clear skies and warm sun, a light breeze scudding across the deck. They both jumped at a loud honk, and laughed when they realised it was the boat whistle. The rumbling started beneath them, and a moment later they began to move, just slowly, the buildings of the harbour beginning to drift past. “Here we go.”

Mark smiled, and dropped his sunglasses down over his eyes.

“Here we go.”

  
  


*

  
  


They sat for a while, drinking. A man came to clear their empty glasses so they asked for two more. By the time they were on their third they were staring out at the open sea, the sun directly above them and the party having settled a little. Kids were running around, people splashing in the pool, and Mark had to admit he was having a grand time, collapsed on a lounger.

Nicky dozed. Mark did too, sleepy in the heat. When he opened his eyes again it was to Nicky with his hat down over his eyes, drink forgotten on the deck beside him. Mark smiled, feeling a soft rush of affection he hadn't expected. Nicky was all excitement and confidence when he was awake, but now he was sweet and vulnerable, deserved some rest after the last few days of misery.

In the muddle of alcohol and drowsiness, Mark had to resist the sudden urge to take his hand.

Instead he sat up, pulled his cap off to tidy his sweaty hair, and put it back. His legs were starting to go a bit pink below his shorts, so he pulled them back into the shade, yawning. A couple of kids ran past laughing. Some lads on the deck above were singing something loud and offkey. He looked up, smirking, then froze when he saw a familiar face in the rabble, his arm around another lad's shoulder and a beer in the other hand.

Oh.

Fuck.

He was reaching for Nicky before he knew it, shaking a slim shoulder. Familiar eyes turned his way. He ignored them. Wasn't sure if they'd seen him or not. Just needed...

“Jesus, what?”

“We need to go.”

“Go where?” Nicky grumbled, pushing his hat up. He peered at Mark. “Where's my drink?”

“Here.” Mark thrust it at him. “I'm getting sunburnt. Let's go back to the room.”

“Go get the sun-cream. I'll wait here.”

“Nicky...” Nicky must have caught his panic, because he raised an eyebrow.

“Alright, come on.” He shoved himself up. Mark followed. Looked up towards the upper deck again, but Kian wasn't there. Like a fucking spider. Not great when you could see it, even worse when it disappeared somewhere out of view. Lurking. That was the word. Just like he had in school when Mark had just been trying to...

They pushed inside. Shivered at the wall of air-conditioning. Nicky was slightly more awake, looking at him in confusion.

“What's wrong?”

“I'll tell you in a minute.”

“You'll tell me now.” He stopped walking, arms crossed obstinately over his chest. Mark bit his lip. “What's going on? You've been weird since the terminal.”

“Kian's here.” Nicky shook his head. “Kian. Egan. From my school?”

“The kid who used to beat you up?” Nicky turned around, already looking annoyed, and began to head back in the other direction. Mark grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. “Come on, then.”

“Where?”

“To punch him. You'll feel better.”

“I won't,” Mark argued. “I'll feel better if I never see him again.”

“Well, that's not likely. You're on a boat with him for two weeks. Big bastard it might be, but you're going to run into him eventually.”

“Not if I stay in the room.”

“You're not staying in the room,” Nicky scolded. “You're going to have a good time. I'm paying for you to have a good time.” They stopped, locked in a crowded hallway, each trying to go in the other direction. “What did he do that was so bad, anyway? You fought a couple of times?”

“No. I mean... yeah. He um...” Mark felt his face flush. “One time he shoved me into the showers with all my clothes on.” Nicky shrugged. “He called me gay. Told everyone I was. It... came up a lot.”

“Are you gay?”

“I... me? No.” His cheeks were blazing now. “You know I'm not.”

“I don't care if you are.”

“I... I'm not.” It didn't come out entirely confidently. Nicky was staring at him. “I'm not sure,” he admitted quietly. The hard gaze softened, and a lump filled Mark's throat. “It was horrible,” he murmured. “I can't even think about it, because when I do all I can see is him kicking me and calling me...”

“Come here.” He was pulled into a strong hug. Felt himself deflate. “S'alright. We'll talk about it later.” Mark nodded helplessly, wondering if he'd just managed to come out to his best friend in the middle of a crowded hallway on the open sea. It wasn't the way he'd seen this day going. “Take a breath, then we'll go back and knock his teeth out.”

“No.” Mark closed his eyes, then pulled away. “Let's just go back to the room. I'm sorry. I'll get my head sorted, and then we can go do something. Bingo? We could go play bingo.”

“We can go play bingo,” Nicky echoed. “Drink?”

Mark nodded, following Nicky down the hallway.

  
  


*

  
  


They didn't talk about the gay thing. Nicky didn't bring it up, and Mark didn't know how to, so instead they just moved past it. They went to play bingo, Nicky stabbing the pen onto his cards with the competitive viciousness that Mark had expected, glaring around when anyone else shouted out. Afterwards they went to the back of the boat and got another drink, sat at a table and watched the coast shrink into the distance until it was a narrowing grey line on the horizon, even the gulls left behind.

There were bars everywhere on this thing. Walk down a corridor, there was a cocktail bar. Climb a staircase, and suddenly there was a whiskey lounge. There was one in the pool, one on every terrace, and when Mark went looking for the ice dispenser down the hall he stumbled sideways and found himself on a small deck with a barman already pouring champagne down a pyramid of flutes.

He grabbed two and made his way back, handed one to Nicky, who smiled vacantly at him and asked if maybe they should eat something soon.

Mark nodded and began to dig through his suitcase for a jacket, now that it had gotten a little cooler. Nicky did the same. Mark was just shrugging his on when he'd realised Nicky had paused, was staring into his suitcase with a lost look that threatened tears.

“Nicky?”

“I forgot to take it out.” He reached in, pulled something out of one of his dress shoes. A ring box. “Shit.” He yanked open the nightstand drawer, tossed it in, then slammed it angrily shut. “Fuck it.” Mark hadn't even had a chance to reply when Nicky stormed away and the bathroom door closed behind him.

He came back out ten minutes later, face washed and hair combed.

“You okay?”

“Not really.” He shrugged on a jacket. “But I'm starving and I want to drink, so let's do that.” A smile wavered on his face, then gave up. “I made reservations for Saturday night, if you're interested. Private sunset dinner. Tapas and dancing. Cost a fucking fortune.”

“Sounds great.” He wasn't sure about the dancing, but oh well. “What else did you organise?”

“Well, for the next few days we've got a chocolate tasting and a mixology class. Oh, and when we get to the first port, there's a romantic carriage-ride through La Rochelle.” He huffed, then looked at Mark, smirking. “Want to be my girlfriend for the next two weeks?”

“Is this about the gay thing?” Mark joked awkwardly. Nicky nudged him.

“It's about I paid for it, and who doesn't like eating chocolate?” Mark had to admit he was right. “If you play your cards right I might even propose.”

“Looking forward to it.” Maybe he was a little drunk, but the whole thing felt like it could be fun, and at least if he was busy all the time he wasn't likely to run into Kian. “Thanks. For being cool.”

“I'm always cool.” Nicky slapped him on the shoulder. “But you're sleeping on the floor.”

“Oh.” That was fair enough, he supposed, though he did feel his stomach sink. “Okay.”

“I'm fucking joking. Just don't spoon me.” Nicky kicked him gently. Mark managed a laugh. “Talk about it if you want to. Otherwise I don't give a shit.” A hand squeezed his shoulder, then turned him into a hug. He was surprised to feel a kiss peck at his cheek. “I heard there's fifteen kinds of dessert,” Nicky whispered sultrily, making Mark giggle. “And nine kinds of potatoes.”

“Tease,” Mark whispered back. Nicky let go.

“Come on.” He turned away, pushed open the door. “Let's go eat until we pass out.”

  
  


*

  
  


It was beautiful, eating on the deck. They went through the buffet quickly, each filled a plate, then went back to get everything they hadn't been able to fit the first time around. The stars were bright, the moon full, and Mark was cheerfully drunk, eating too much pasta and trying not to spend all his time looking nervously around for memories he didn't feel like revisiting.

“I,” Nicky announced, “am absolutely hammered.”

“Tell me about it.” Mark smiled. It was a good sort of drunk. A comfortable plateau that put a dusky glow into the edges of the world. He took a sip of his cocktail, wincing at the slurp of air throught a straw. Pushed it away. “Dead soldier.”

“We'll send his personal effects to his family.” Nicky removed the umbrella and rolled it in a napkin while Mark laughed. “Poor soul was in the prime of his life.” Mark crossed himself, still laughing. “Shall we send for the next battalion?”

“Let me contact the base.” Mark peered around, saw a man clearing glasses, and waved. Five minutes later there were fruity cocktails in front of them.

“Quick thinking, captain.”

“Thanks, sarge.” Mark took a sip of his. Too sweet. He picked the cocktail list up off the table and peered at it through blurry eyes. “We've done six out of twenty-four.”

“Try every cocktail before we leave?”

“Agreed.”

“Motion passed. Brilliant.” Nicky pulled the list from his unresisting fingers, scanned it, then dropped it back on the table. “Mind the spot, I'm going to get cheesecake.” He staggered cheerfully off. Mark watched him go, then picked up the list again, wondering what to get next. He was busy trying to decide when a shadow fell across him.

“Mark?”

His blood froze. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. A sudden, animal instinct to run or fight. He couldn't do either, just sat there, trying to breathe. Looked up. Into blue eyes and a careful smile.

“Kian?” He wet his suddenly dry mouth. “Hey.” Kian didn't appear to be about to punch him, was actually looking a little shy, if anything, one hand scratching absently at the other elbow. He looked different. Maybe slightly taller, his hair cut shorter in a floppy mop that was messy in the breeze, stubble on his cheeks. “Fancy... seeing you here.”

“Yeah. Small world, right?” He put out a hand. Mark shook it numbly, felt a dry palm touch to his own, which felt horribly clammy. “We're on holiday. Just a bunch of the lads. Shane's here. You remember Shane Filan?” Mark nodded. He did, from the year above. “He's dating my cousin.”

“Wow. That's...” Mark didn't know what to say. Kian was being friendly. He didn't know how to cope with Kian being friendly.

“You should come hang out, if you get time. Catch up, yeah? I'm sure everyone'd like to hear how you've been.” Mark didn't know what to say to that either. “How have you been?”

Whatever Mark's reply was going to be was interrupted by a plate landing in front of him. He looked up, saw Nicky smile.

“Saw Tiramisu and thought of you.” A hand clapped onto his shoulder. Mark stared back numbly. Nicky was looking curiously at Kian. “Hello.”

“This... is Kian.” Nicky's face hardened. “We went to school together. He came over to say hi.”

“Did he? Brilliant.” Nicky looked down at Mark, studying, then back up. Mark wondered if he was about to throw a punch and hoped he wouldn't. He didn't know how ship jail worked but he really didn't need to spend the next two weeks in it. Maybe it was like on a pirate ship, in a cell below decks, or maybe they'd just get tossed off at the next port. “Nice to meet you Kian.” He stuck out a hand, and Mark saw a slight wince of pain on Kian's face as the grip tightened. Nicky let go, looked down, grinned, and bent to press a kiss to Mark's hair before he sat down. Mark blinked in surprise. A hand covered his on the table, squeezing. “Would you like to pull up a chair? I'll order you a drink.”

“Er... no. Thanks.” Kian was going red, Mark could swear it. “I'd better get back. See you round.” He shuffled off, eyes fixed firmly on his feet.

“What are you doing?” Mark hissed. Nicky laughed and reached for his drink.

“Figured I'd scare him off, if he's that homophobic.” Mark didn't know what to say. Felt numb, absurdly terrified. Maybe they were grown-ups and Kian couldn't hurt him any more, but that didn't change the fact that there were things about himself he wasn't ready to face yet, especially not in public. “Anyway, you're my cruise girlfriend, aren't you?”

“I wish you hadn't done that.”

“Too late now.” Nicky reached for his cake, levered off a slice, and took a bite. “That's alright. What's the Tiramisu like?”

Mark pushed it towards him, suddenly not feeling very hungry.

  
  


 


	3. Chapter 3

Mark woke the next morning with a slight headache and the sense that he was moving. The ceiling stared back at him while he tried to figure out where he was, if they'd gotten a waterbed in his room, but when he blinked and saw the blue line of the ocean through the balcony doors and heard Nicky snoring gently beside him the whole surreal thing came back in sudden detail.

The shower was hot. He stood under it a long time, recovering from the blankness of sleep, though after a while memories started to trickle through. Cocktails and bingo and...

He closed his eyes again to block it out. Opened them to water cascading over his face, turning everything blurry while he tried to figure out exactly what he'd said and how much of it was true. He didn't know. Didn't know what he was supposed to be apart from very confused and hungover and embarrassed.

When he left the steamy stall the covers were tossed back and the balcony doors were open. He sidled out to find Nicky sat on the balcony, robe knotted around himself and a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Where'd you get that?”

“Room service.” Mark blinked. He hadn't even heard the door. “Got you one.”

“Cheers.” He collapsed into the other chair and closed his eyes again. “Kian thinks we're a couple, doesn't he?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.” There was a thoughtful slurp, then silence backlit by the rush of the waves. It was another beautiful day, sunny and warm. Mark let the heat wake him up, tried to figure out what to say next. “Look, if it helps, I'm not completely surprised.” Mark nodded. He supposed that wasn't unlikely.

“Is that right, detective?”

“I'd like to take the credit, but Georgina picked it first.” Mark opened his eyes, saw a sheepish smile. “She knew we were close, think she was wondering. You know.”

“If we were...” He gestured between them, then laughed out loud, unable to help it. Nicky grinned back. “What did you tell her?”

“That you hadn't said anything to me, so I wasn't going to pry. We talk about everything else. I figured if you didn't want to I wasn't going to take it personally.”

“It wasn't that I didn't want to. I just didn't know what to say.” Nicky shrugged. “I don't know if I am. I just know I don't feel...” He sighed. “That's why I wasn't going home this holiday. I wanted to spend some time by myself. Figure it out.”

“Sorry I interrupted.”

“You didn't. I just...” He reached for his coffee and took a sip. It was perfect, bitterness that rushed into his bloodstream and brought him awake. “I think I spent so long saying I definitely wasn't, you know? Everyone's treating you like garbage for something you haven't even decided about yourself, and you go the other way whether it's true or not. It just hurt too much to think about it.”

“He really did a number on you, huh?”

“Not just him. Other people. But yeah, I dunno. I went out with girls because it felt safer, but I don't know if I wanted them or if I was just relieved that people were leaving me alone, and I didn't want my parents to find out I was getting bullied, because then I'd have to tell them why. Maybe I like girls but it's all fucked up anyway because I wanted them for the wrong reasons. Then I think it was over two years ago and I'm twenty and maybe I should stop acting like school matters any more, because we're all different people and...” He sighed. Nicky gave him an encouraging smile and he realised he'd been rambling.

“Are you scared he's going to start things up again? Because you know I'll knock his block off.”

“I don't know. When I saw him yesterday it felt the same. And maybe in a way I wanted him to hit me, or say something awful, because then it would mean I have a reason to feel like I do. But he was just polite. Like he didn't even remember what he'd done to me. So maybe I was wrong, and I built it up as this big thing in my head even though it wasn't that bad.”

“Was it that bad?”

“...yeah,” Mark admitted. A boot in his gut as he lay on the shower floor, crying and trying to get away. “It was that bad.”

“I can still punch him.”

“I don't want you to.” He took another sip of his coffee. “Sorry, this holiday wasn't supposed to be about my drama.”

“No, it was supposed to be about me proposing to my girlfriend, but that's gone tits up so we might as well.” Nicky smiled kindly and Mark found himself smiling back, feeling a flood of relief he hadn't expected. “Can I float an idea?” Mark nodded. “We have thirteen more days of romantic activities planned. Let's do them together, and if Kian sees he can think what he wants.”

“You want to pretend to be a couple?”

“No, I want to take my best friend to a massage and facial in about...” He glanced at his watch. “Two hours. Then this afternoon we're going to learn to make four different kinds of martinis.”

“We are?”

“We are.” Nicky took a sip of his coffee. “But first we're going to see about breakfast.”

  
  


*

  
  


Mark wished he hadn't eaten so much breakfast. At the time it had been delicious, full Irish and then some, grease that washed away the alcohol from the day before and made room for the screwdrivers they shared in the restaurant, Nicky's itinerary between them while they argued idly over which film they wanted to see that night.

Now he felt full and a bit self-conscious while he stripped off and wrapped a towel around his waist.

It helped being face down on the table, though he wished there was a hole for his stomach as well as his face. Nicky seemed to be enjoying himself. Mark could hear soft moans whenever an elbow went wherever it was supposed to. He wasn't a huge fan of strangers touching him, but it was definitely nice, sagging when he felt firm hands draw the stress out of his shoulders.

“Shit, that's good,” Nicky sighed. Mark could just see him when he looked up, caught a relaxed smile, both of them with their cheeks puddled on crossed arms. “How you doing?”

“S'good.” His words came out too slow. Nicky smirked. Mark quite wanted to fall asleep. “Thanks, babe.”

“Only the best for you, gorgeous,” Nicky shot back. Mark stuck out his tongue.

“How long have you two been together?”

“Two years,” Nicky said, before Mark could reply. The girl working on Nicky's feet gave him a smile that was so sweet he didn't know how to correct her. “We met at karaoke. He sang Proud Mary, and I bought him a pint.”

“I can't believe you remember what I sang,” Mark laughed. Nicky shrugged. “I just remember you doing Angels.” He'd heard the opening piano and been sure someone was about to butcher Robbie Williams, but Nicky had been perfection. “Good night.”

“That's so sweet,” she said. The girl dismantling Mark's spine made a soft hum of agreement. “There's karaoke onboard most nights. Maybe you can do a duet.”

“Maybe,” Mark agreed. Nicky winked back.

He left the spa feeling more relaxed than when he'd gone in. The facial had been weird, his face slathered with something that had smelled like a side-dish at a Mexican restaurant, but he did feel refreshed. Nicky was looking better too. More at peace, somehow, or not so much like five minutes from bursting into tears.

“What are we doing now?”

“I think we're definitely doing cocktails.” Nicky stretched. “Good massage. Top five.”

“You've had one before?”

“Used to get one once every two weeks from my physiotherapist, when I was doing football. Why? You've never had one?” Mark shook his head. “How come?”

“Dunno. Naked in front of strangers. Strangers touching me.” Nicky raised an eyebrow. “S'not my thing. I mean, it was nice as a treat, but I doubt I'd be getting one again unless it was free.”

“Suit yourself.” Nicky hesitated. “Can I ask a really personal question, actually?” Mark nodded. “Are you a virgin?”

Mark lurched into a laugh, surprised. Nicky was looking at him expectantly. “I'm not a virgin, no,” he laughed. “I mean, it's been a while, but...”

“How long?”

“A while, I dunno.” He looked for somewhere else to put the conversation, but they were walking up a corridor towards the elevators and there wasn't much else of interest going on. He supposed he was glad there was nobody around to hear. “The last one was a girl a couple of months after I started at Trinity. We slept together at a party. That was kind of it.”

“Since then?” Mark shook his head. “I assume no lads?”

“No. I wouldn't have cheated on you, anyway.” Nicky grinned and elbowed him.

“You never tell me this stuff.”

“What, just walk up and tell you I had sex with some lass I didn't know? It's not exactly something you drop into conversation.”

“I do it all the time.”

“I know. It's annoying.” Nicky popping into the flat and announcing he'd gotten a blowjob the night before. Before Georgina, of course. He'd been sweet about her, kept things private. They reached the elevators, hung a left, and began to climb the stairs instead. Nicky gave him a grateful smile.

“Sorry.”

“It's okay. I can pretend I'm working off breakfast.”

“You can come to the gym with me. I was going to start tomorrow morning.”

“I hate the gym.”

“Of course you do. But you're the one who's out of breath.” Nicky charged ahead, laughing while Mark struggled to keep up. “Come on.”

Mark emerged on their floor panting. Nicky was already pushing open their door, halfway down the corridor and waving cheerfully. Mark gave him the finger, staggered the rest of the way, found Nicky sat cockily on the bed, then collapsed forward beside him.

“Now you're just being theatrical.”

“Maybe,” Mark admitted. “My pores were too open from that facial. Wind resistance.”

“Oh, so it's science.” Nicky patted his shoulder. Mark looked up.

“When's this martini thing?”

“Not until four.”

“Cool. I'm taking a nap.” He crawled towards the head of the bed then turned over, flopping backwards into the pillows. A weight settled tentatively on his shoulder and he opened one eye to see blonde hair, felt an arm rest on his waist. “What's up?”

“Nothing. Napping, like you said.” Nicky's eyes were closed. “I'm sad. Don't question it.”

Mark nodded and closed his eyes again, hoping Nicky couldn't feel his heart beating too fast through his t-shirt when fingers settled on the gap between his shirt and shorts, warm against his skin.

  
  


*

  
  


He woke in time for lunch. Nicky had gotten up already and Mark lay for a few minutes after he'd woken, staring blankly at the television until Nicky realised he'd opened his eyes and smiled down, the duvet rucked around his waist and the remote in his hand.

“Morning.”

“Hey.” Mark blinked. It was a repeat of some old Monty Python episode. No real programming, not out in the middle of the sea, just pre-recorded TV and movies played on an endless loop. He supposed you didn't really come on a holiday to watch television anyway. “Think that parrot's dead.”

“Don't spoil the ending.” Nicky nudged him. “Food?”

The restaurant was already full when they made it upstairs, so they ended up sitting at the back of the deck in the sun, picking over burgers and chips. Mark had wondered if it would be too much being with each other all the time for two weeks, but so far it was okay. Being around Nicky had always come second nature. Maybe it was being naturally a little self-conscious, a little unsure of other people's intentions, but he'd always wondered if Nicky liked him quite as much.

“You're quiet.”

“Still half asleep.” He took a sip of his tequila sunrise. “My liver's going to be hammered after this.”

“Quitter.” Nicky winked. “Kian's over there, by the way.” Mark began to turn. “Don't look. Jesus, you fucking amateur.” Mark resisted the urge, looked back down at his plate. “He's seen you, he's coming over.”

“What do I do?”

“I don't know. He's not your ex. Just tell him to fuck off.” Nicky reached for chip. “Here.” He reached forward, poking at Mark's mouth. “Open up.”

“What?”

“Have a chip.” Mark did, catching it from Nicky's fingers and swallowing awkwardly. Eyes darted over his shoulder again. “Nope, didn't do it. He's looking a bit panicked, though. Have another one.” He picked up a second chip.

“What's he doing?”

“He's watching me hand-feed my boyfriend. You try it.” Mark shrugged and grabbed a chip of his own, laughing in surprise when Nicky snapped out to catch it, then darted his tongue out, nipped at the ends of Mark's fingers and pulled away with a look that could only be described as seductive. Mark swallowed, not sure the tightening of his shorts was at all appropriate. “Mm, that's a big chip, loads of sauce.” Mark had to stop himself from collapsing into nervous laughter while Nicky grinned back. “Give me another. I like 'em firm.”

“Nicky...!” Mark covered his mouth. “Stop it.”

“Not yet.” Nicky's eyes darted over. “His mate's talking to him, he's turning around, and...” He smirked triumphantly. “Crisis averted.”

“Thanks,” Mark drawled. Nicky went back to eating his chips. “I'm being a coward, aren't I?”

“Who gives a shit? You never have to see him again once we get off the boat, so unless you feel like having a touching moment with your bully I figure we keep fucking with him. This wasn't what we came here for.” Mark rolled his eyes. “Tell him to fuck off or don't. I'm having fun.” He drained the rest of his drink. “We've got two hours until the martini thing. You want to explore after this?”

  
  


*

  
  


It was fun, exploring with Nicky. They strolled for ages, peering down every hallway, looked into the theatre to see if there was anything on, but it was empty and quiet and so they wandered back out, kept going until they found the casino and put a couple of p into a slot machine for a laugh.

Martinis were fun. They ended up at a table with an older couple who asked how their romantic getaway was going. They could hold their liquor, Mark could give them that. When they left he was more tipsy than he'd intended, and they took the long way back to the room, walking through the lower decks and watching the sun set in the distance, cut by the line of the approaching horizon.

“I was going to propose tomorrow,” Nicky murmured. Mark nodded.

“I know.” He put an arm around Nicky's shoulder, squeezed, then let go. “We can still do that carriage-ride.”

“Yeah.” Mark watched Nicky hug himself, shivering. It was getting a little cooler. Mark shrugged off his jacket, putting it around Nicky's shoulders, saw a grateful smile that trembled. “Maybe it was stupid. She would have said no, probably, and then we would have had to spend two weeks being awkward on a boat.”

“Probably for the best,” Mark agreed. “Maybe when you get back you guys can talk. Start again or something.”

“I don't think so.” They paused at the end of the deck, a life-boat dangling above them and a life-buoy bolted to the wall beside them. Mark leaned on the railing to look down at the foam carving alongside the boat. “Maybe...” Nicky leaned beside him. “Maybe she was right. Maybe we were going too fast. I mean, it wasn't even two years. I was probably just getting too intense, like she said.” He kicked gently at the railing. Mark felt it shudder. “It was my fault. I just loved her so much.”

“It wasn't your fault. You just weren't on the same page,” Mark offered. “ You're only twenty-one. You've got time.”

“She felt like the one.”

“No, the one would appreciate that you're stupid and romantic. You need someone who gets it. Who wants to love you back like that, and do spontaneous mad things.” He nudged Nicky. “You need a girl who doesn't let you book an expensive holiday and then backs out at the last minute.”

“Maybe,” Nicky conceded. He stepped closer, and Mark reached out when their sides pressed together, pulling him into half a hug. “I'm going to get another drink.” Mark didn't argue. Maybe Nicky was drinking more than usual, but it was free and he was heartbroken. Mark supposed the best he could do was keep an eye on him, try not to read to much into it when he didn't know how Nicky felt, not really.

“Want to go see about karaoke?” Nicky shook his head.

“Let's just...” He sighed. “Let's just get a bottle of something and head back to the room, alright?”

He pulled away and went back inside, leaving Mark to catch up.

  
  


 


	4. Chapter 4

They moored in La Pallice sometime during the night. It was beautiful, looking out the open balcony doors onto the port. White stone buildings and red roofs everywhere, sea birds swooping past, the water blue and calm. Nicky was at the gym when he woke, or at least that was what the note said, though he came back just after nine, sweaty and looking far more cheerful than the night before, when he'd drunk himself into an unconscious sleep then spent the whole night snoring and tossing.

“Morning!” He bounced into the bathroom and shut the door. Mark stared after him as the water began to patter onto the tiles.

They stepped off the ship an hour later, breakfast in their stomachs and sunglasses on. There were buses everywhere, people milling about. Their coach wasn't for half an hour, to take them into the city for the carriage-ride, so they wandered around the port, chatting and checking out the scenery. When they made it back there was a queue and a tour guide trying to get people sorted onto the right buses.

“Think that's us.” Nicky steered them over, showed their pass, and then they were on, pushing up the aisle and looking for two seats together.

They were just settling in when Kian climbed on.

Mark stiffened. Heart in his throat. Was grateful he was in the window seat, at least, Nicky separating him from the aisle.

They shuffled past. Mark turned towards the window, hoping he hadn't been seen.

“Mark?”

He looked up. Shane Filan. A baffled smile on his face.

“Shane... hey.” Couldn't help but smile. Shane had been alright, in school. The year above and apart from it all, though they'd sort of known each other from choir.

“Good to see you, man! Didn't know you were here!” A hand reached out, another wrapping around Mark's when he shook it. Same old Shane. Friendly to a fault. “Kian, check it out! Mark's here!” He gestured, and Mark saw a thin smile in return.

“We... actually ran into each other yesterday,” Kian admitted. There were no seats nearby, thank god. Mark watched him sidle into a seat towards the back.

“You didn't tell me?”

“Must've forgot. Hey again.” He waved awkwardly. Nicky returned it far too brightly, twisted in his seat. Shane glanced at him curiously.

“Sorry, this is Nicky,” Mark explained. “Nicky, Shane. We went to school together.”

“Hiya.” Nicky shook Shane's hand too. “Nice to meet ya.”

“You too.” Shane was making assumptions. It was really strange. Mark had never thought about it before, wondered if it was something people thought often, he and Nicky always together. “You doing the snorkelling thing? We can hang out.”

Mark was going to reply. Nicky got there first.

“Romantic carriage-ride,” he announced cheerfully. Shane's smile didn't falter, though Mark did see his eyes do a odd little sparkle of triumph, as though he was congratulating himself on an accurate diagnosis of the situation. “We've been looking forward to it. Supposed to be some amazing views.” He patted Mark's thigh. “Apart from the obvious.”

“Nicky.” The giggle was high and embarrassing. He bit his lip to stop it. “Sorry,” he said to Shane. “Maybe catch up later?”

“Sounds good.” There was a honk from the front. “Ooh, better find a seat. Good seeing you.” He began to push up the back to sit with Kian and the other lads.

Nicky grinned at him. Mark tried to glare back.

“Happy with yourself?”

“Yep.” Nicky dropped on his sunglasses as they began to move.

  
  


*

  
  


It felt strange, being in the back of a cart again. It was a rush of familiarity he hadn't expected. They climbed off the bus, and a short walk later there were a few ponies standing around, hitched to small two-person buggies, their drivers in jaunty, colourful uniforms.

Mark gestured Nicky in first, helped him up. He looked a little unsure, was glancing at the pony as though he wasn't confident it was safe, though when Mark climbed up as well he smiled and stretched out, eyes casting around as they began to move.

It was easy going. The port was beautiful, the carriage moving slowly through the town and along the edge of the water. The driver pointed out little things as they passed, mostly understandable in a broken English, and it was more fun than Mark had expected, drifting along in the sunlight to the clopping of hooves on the road.

“You okay?” he murmured. Nicky nodded. He'd been quiet most of the ride, staring out at the water like he was waiting for something.

“Yeah.” He turned to look at Mark. The smile was forced. “Just... I think it's dawning on me.” He breathed out slowly, and Mark waited for him to compose himself. “Good. Yep. Sorted.” He turned to look at Mark. “Hug?”

“Course.” He reached out his arm. Both Nicky's arms wrapped around his shoulders and he smiled, giving him a quick squeeze. “You know,” he said, when they'd separated again. “If we were together, this'd probably work on me. Country kid, horses, all that sort of thing.”

“Want me to get you a sheep for your birthday?”

“Where would I keep it?” His arm was still around Nicky's shoulders. “Shane was big into horses. His family had the stables and he used to do show-jumping and that. Won a couple of trophies at the time.”

“He seems alright.”

“Yeah. He was never a bad guy. We were in church choir together.”

“Ooh, get you in choir,” Nicky teased. Mark shrugged. “Did you have the robes? Did a priest touch you inappropriately?”

“We had a pastor.”

“Oh, well that changes everything.” Nicky rolled his eyes. “We should go, sometime. You're always banging on about Sligo and hills and grass and whatever it is you farmers get hard over.”

“You want to come to Sligo?”

“Yeah. Be a laugh.” Nicky stretched again. Mark stared at him, dumbfounded. “Don't look at me like that. I've been camping.”

“You're a real outdoorsman.” The carriage slowed to go over a small bridge and then it was small colourful shops and market stalls everywhere. “You could meet my folks, ask my dad for permission...”

“I've met your folks.”

“Half the work's done, then.” He squeezed Nicky's shoulder. “Did you tell yours about Georgina?” He got a sharp look. “Sorry. Other topics.”

“It's fine.” Nicky turned away, leaned back to settle against Mark's side. “I didn't tell them.” Mark nodded silently. “They don't have to know yet, anyway. It felt pointless when I was going away for two weeks. Might as well wait until I get back to disappoint them.”

“Would they be disappointed?”

“I don't know. It felt like a bad time to find out. I guess I just didn't...” He gestured weakly, still turned away. “I didn't want them to feel sorry for me. Because if they were sad, then I'd have to feel worse and I didn't have the energy for it.” They both yelped when they jolted on a rock. The driver apologised quickly, though neither of them minded.

It was almost an hour later they climbed off, thanked the driver, and went to find some lunch. Mark stretched, his arse a bit sore from sitting on the wooden bench, and began to follow Nicky through the little streets. There was plenty of time. The ship didn't depart until nightfall so they spent as long as they wanted strolling and peering at menus outside small cafes until they found somewhere that looked nice.

Mark ordered, helped a little by what he remembered of his high school French. When he was done Nicky was smiling at him.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just glad I brought you, apparently.” He looked at the drinks menu. “Do you know all the swears? Can you say fuck in French?”

“There isn't really a translation.” He lowered his voice to avoid being rude in a place full of kids and families, though nobody was really paying attention. “There's _putain_ , which is kind of generic french swearing. It kind of means 'damn', but also kind of means 'prostitute'.” Nicky raised an eyebrow. “It's sort of contextual. If you want an easy one, 'shit' is _merde._

“Merde,” Nicky repeated clumsily. Mark snorted. “Fuck off, I did Irish instead. Who uses French, anyway?” Mark gestured at the drinks menu. “That's different. That's what you're for.” Nicky picked it up and peered at it. “Which one of these is water?”

The food was amazing. They stuck with basic things like pastries and cheese. The waiter spoke decent English but Mark didn't trust his own French enough to not end up with something he hadn't meant to order, potentially something still alive.

“Er...” Nicky hesitated as they sorted the bill. The girl at the counter looked up. “Merci?”

“Nice work,” Mark whispered. Nicky shoved him.

“Yeah, well, you're a merdie.”

“Merde.”

“Same thing.” He stalked out the door, leaving Mark to finish paying. Mark found him outside, waiting impatiently. “Head back?”

  
  


*

  
  


“So tell me something.” Mark looked over, shielding his eyes again the setting sun. It was blocked by the trees a moment later. He could see the bus just up the hill, idling, though they had plenty of time and weren't in a rush, had made their way back slowly after lunch at the cafe, Nicky using the time to ask for translations of every swear word he could think of.

“Mm?”

“You've never had sex with a guy.”

“No.” Mark squinted at him. “Was that it?”

“No. Shut up.” Nicky punched him in the shoulder. “I mean, like... how did you figure it out? Like did you suddenly see some balls one day and think 'I want those on my face'?” Mark laughed out loud, unable to help it. “What are your feelings on balls?”

“I... yeah. They're fine or whatever.” He covered his face with both hands to hide the blush. Nicky clapped him on the back. “I don't know. What are you feelings on girls like...” He gestured helplessly downwards, his other hand still hiding half his face.

“Seen a few. Big fan. Wouldn't mind seeing more.”

“Oh... yeah. Good.” Both hands dropped by his sides. “Erm.” Nicky was watching him curiously. “I don't know. Maybe it was just that girls didn't feel right at the time. It's hard to explain. I think mostly I just tried to ignore it. Not be interested in anyone. But I probably notice boys more, like as far as just walking down the street goes. Like when someone just catches your eye and that.” He hesitated, realised Nicky was actually really listening and decided to continue. “When I was about eleven or twelve my cousin had a boyfriend. She was twenty or so, he was a bit older. She used to come sit for us sometimes when all the adults went for dinner, and sometimes she'd bring him with her and we'd hang out.”

“He didn't...”

“Didn't what?” He caught Nicky's expression and realised, with a jolt of horror. “No. God, no!” Nicky began to look relieved. “No. Fuck. Definitely not.” They both laughed awkwardly. “Um. Sorry. Where was I?”

“The boyfriend.”

“Right. So... anyway, he was basically just a cool guy who didn't mind hanging out with her while she took care of these kids, and one time I... I dunno. He was making bacon sandwiches for dinner and I was sitting at the kitchen table while she was in the other room getting my brothers into their pyjamas and I just felt this... thing. Like if he left I'd probably burst into tears and never stop. And then later when I got up for a glass of water I caught them making out on the sofa and suddenly I just wanted to hit her. Like, throw her off because he was mine, and I think for a second my heart broke. I just went to bed and cried for ages and then when mam and dad got home I pretended I was asleep.”

“Huh.” Nicky pursed his lips. They were almost at the bus. Mark couldn't look at him. Felt jittery and claustrophobic for reasons he couldn't begin to express, except he'd never told anybody that. Never really even told himself. “You were twelve?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“What happened with the boyfriend?”

“They broke up eventually. I was devastated. She got a new one a year later but by that point I was too old to need a sitter anyway. Part of me was sort of relieved as well.”

“Why?”

“Because it scared the shit out of me and having him around made it worse?” Nicky nodded sagely. Mark didn't know if he really understood, though. Didn't know if he could. That awful senseless panic that hadn't gone away with deep breaths and rationalisation, the one that felt like he'd been smuggling a secret on his person for years and always, always thinking he'd move wrong and it'd fall out for everyone to see.

It was easier for it not to be true. To build up the walls and the layers and find a way to convince himself that the words and the pushes and the shoe in his back was misdirected. That it was a mistake. That if he could just show them...

There was still plenty of room on the bus. They headed up the back, squashed into a seat. There were people milling around outside, carrying backpacks and looking a bit sunburnt. Mark realised his hands were shaking.

“You okay?” Nicky murmured.

“Yeah.” He clenched his hands into fists, tried to squeeze the tremble out of them. Felt Nicky's hands cradle his, thumbs stroking gently down his wrists. Closed his eyes. One let go for an arm to wrap around his shoulders. “So what was your childhood trauma?”

“You know. Usual. Occasional detention. Found out Santa wasn't real.”

“They _lied_ to me?”

“Yeah, they do that.” Nicky reached for his seatbelt. The bus was beginning to fill. Mark tugged his over as well to click it into place. “You know. The Easter Bunny. Tooth Fairy. You can do anything you put your mind to. The usual sort of bullshit. Determination didn't make me three inches taller.”

“I'm sorry.” Nicky didn't talk about football often. It was an obvious sore-spot, had poured out over too many drinks one night. “You like doing the garda training, right? I know it wasn't your first choice, but...”

“I do like it. The first few months after I left were hard. I was bitter and shitty, and it felt like everyone was talking behind my back. There's your man who couldn't make it. I didn't want people to feel sorry for me, but I couldn't stop feeling sorry for myself.”

“What did you do?”

“I let it go.” He settled back in his seat as the bus door closed. “I couldn't change it, so I decided to throw myself into something else. I got my leaving cert, applied for the guard. I could sit around telling war stories all the time and pretending it's coming back, but what's the point? I didn't want to start hating something I love because of something I couldn't help. Then what would I have?”

“You've really got it all figured out, haven't you?”

“No. I just picked a direction rather than standing there and hoping someone would come along and offer a ride.” Mark nodded slowly. “You have do _something_ , is the point.”

“What should I do?”

“Up to you.” The door opened again and a group of panting boys climbed on, thanking the driver for waiting. Mark checked his watch. Two minutes late. They'd barely scraped it.

Kian passed him on the way. Hair dripping and dressed in nothing but baggy shorts, chest still moving hard after the run up the hill. Shane was giggling with one of their friends, waved at Mark, but Mark wasn't looking. Not when Kian Egan was glistening and bronze, nipples hard in the central air.

He swallowed. Looked away. Nicky was obliviously staring out the window.

He stared at the back of the seat in front and waited for the bus to start moving.

  
  


 


	5. Chapter 5

Nicky seemed quiet after the carriage-ride. They left port just after nine that night. There was a rumble, a slight lurch, and within half an hour France was behind them and it was open water on the way to Spain.

“Do you want to go up for the party?”

“No.” Nicky had been sat on the balcony for a while, looking out over the sea. Mark had let him be. They'd been together all day and he'd seemed to need time by himself, though it was dark now and Mark was getting peckish again.

“You feeling okay?”

“Yeah.” He was turning something over in his hands, though it took Mark a second to realise it was the ring box, almost hidden in the shadows. “Just... big day.” He levered the top off, pursed his lips, and for a moment Mark was sure he was going to toss the ring into the ocean in some sudden display of anger.

Instead he shut the box again. Squeezed it in one hand, knuckles going white.

“Do you want to be left alone?”

“Yeah,” Nicky mumbled. “For a bit.” He looked up. “Am I an arsehole?”

“No. Course you're not.” He patted Nicky's shoulder. “You're not gonna like...” His eyes darted towards the railing worriedly. “Don't do anything stupid?”

“I'm not going to kill myself, Mark. Jesus.” A bitter laugh was swept away by the night air. “I wouldn't do that to you, anyway. You'd miss me.” He looked down at the box again. “I'm just going to sit here, maybe order a bottle of something, and have a bit of a cry.” He chuckled when Mark bent down to yank him into a hug. “I'm alright. Thanks.” A hand cupped the back of his head. “You go. Have some dinner and come back in a few hours. Maybe I'll feel like it then.” Nicky propped his feet up on the balcony. “Bring me back some cheesecake if there's any left?”

Mark said he would and went to find a change of clothes. When he got back out of the bathroom Nicky had his headphones in, discman on his lap. Mark waved at him through the door then went out, throwing a last, careful glance over his shoulder when he saw Nicky inspect the ring-box again.

  
  


*

  
  


The deck party was raging upstairs. It was disorienting, when he pushed through the stairwell doors onto strobe lights and loud dance music. There was a DJ up past the pool, people everywhere wearing leis and grass-skirts, holding fruity cocktails. The pool was full of kids shoving and splashing, and when he looked up there were people ringing the balcony above like something out of The Birds.

It was late enough that the buffet had calmed down. He grabbed himself something small then hovered for a second, feeling awkward about sitting by himself. Still, he couldn't go back to the room, not when Nicky had wanted to be left alone, so he found the smallest table he could and asked for a beer to go with his meal, wishing he'd brought a book.

He was on his way back past the ice-cream bar, wondering if it had been long enough, when he realised someone was calling his name.

He looked up. Wondered if maybe it was Nicky, having changed his mind. Instead there was Shane, waving at him from the deck above, a cocktail in his other hand.

“Hey!” Mark smiled and waved back. “Where's Nicky?”

“Er...” His mind went blank for a second. “Sea-sick.” Shane pulled a sympathetic face. A few of the others were starting to turn around now. He recognised a couple of them from school. He couldn't see Kian, though, which was a bit of a blessing.

“Come up and have a drink with us!” He hesitated. “Come on.” The stairs were nearby, another bar at the top. He found himself scaling them without thinking about it, a race in his chest that felt almost like being at school, having kids from the cool group know his name. It was a guilty feeling, one he'd not had since he was sixteen or so, pretending he didn't care when a popular girl nodded at him in the hall.

He was pulled into a hug when he arrived. Returned it, surprised. Graham Keighron and Michael Garrett shook his hand. Derrick Lacey gave him a small salute. It was fucking surreal.

“Good to see you, man.” Shane let him go. “It's so weird. I saw your mam a couple of weeks ago and here you are.”

“Here I am,” he managed. Shane lifted his straw to his mouth. “What are we drinking?”

“Er... dunno. Kian got the last round. It's got blue in it.” He took another sip, looked up, and when Mark followed his gaze he realised Kian was advancing, juggling three drinks. “Ah, cheers.”

“It's only basics next time. Spent twenty minutes watching him mash up limes.” Derrick and Graham took theirs. “Hey. You staying?” Mark shrugged, gave a half nod he hoped didn't look like he was committing to anything. “Here, then.” A tall glass layered with colour was pushed into his hand.

“That's yours. I can't...”

“It's fine. I was going to go back for a packet of crisps anyway.” Kian smiled at him. A genuine, open smile that Mark didn't know what to do with. “Where's Nicky?”

“Sea-sick,” Shane said sympathetically. “Is he okay by himself? Do you need to check in on him?”

“He's fine. He'll get his sea-legs by tomorrow and be alright.” Mark took a sip of the cocktail. Its flavours were all colours, though the sharpness of vodka was trickling through. “He was going to sleep when I left. I promised to bring back cheesecake.”

“Ah, that's sweet.” Kian wandered off again, leaving the five of them stood together.

He took another sip. Stronger than he'd expected. Good, though. He wondered if it counted as cheating to get one cocktail ahead of Nicky, then decided not to worry about it. They weren't married. “So... how's everyone been?”

Everyone had been alright, apparently. Shane was doing well, was indeed seeing Kian's cousin Gillian, doing accounting at IT Sligo and working at his parents' chipper. None of them had left Sligo, were all studying at the local university, dating hometown girls and settled into the same lives they'd always had. Derrick was working at the local pub. It was surreal. Like a picture frozen in time.

“What are you up to, Kian?” Blue eyes darted up. Kian had been quiet, since he'd gotten back from the bar, though Mark hadn't noticed at first with everyone talking. Then he'd realised he was being watched. A tentative gaze that was both curious and a little wary.

“Not much.” His drink was empty. He put it down. It was Graham's turn next, apparently, though everyone else was still working on their last one. “Doing my business diploma, still working at EJ's.”

“Skrod's doing alright.”

“Skrods's a nightmare.” Kian rolled his eyes. Shane shrugged. “Drummer quit two weeks ago. Honestly I'm thinking of fucking them all off. I'm the only original member anyway.”

“Could just change your last name to Skrod,” Mark suggested. “Hire some session musicians. You could be like Bon Jovi or Van Halen.”

“Just call it 'Kian'. Like Madonna,” Graham added.

“Do a Prince and be a symbol,” Shane chuckled. “Except for you it'd just be like a massive bell-end.” They all laughed while Kian scowled. “Is there a symbol for greasy weirdos who shout a lot?”

“I don't know, Shane, is there a symbol for being a twat?”

“You'd know.”

“I'd hope you would too or what are you doing with my cousin, you fucking homo?” His eyes darted over. “Sorry. Didn't mean it like that.”

“No. That's... that's fine.” He forced himself to smile casually, realised he'd been cringing from Kian's tone ever since he'd started arguing with Shane. It was fine. Not aggressive, just a bit of banter between lads. “Erm...” He looked down into his drink, which was almost empty. “I might head off in a minute anyway. Check on Nicky.” The others were looking apologetic. Shane was glaring at Kian out of the corner of his eye. “So...”

“Stay for another one,” Shane offered. “Seriously.” Kian was going red. Suddenly Mark wanted to stay. Maybe because Kian was looking so uncomfortable, maybe because he wanted to rub it in a bit. And maybe because for the first time he didn't have to run away. Because it was none of Kian's fucking business.

“One more,” he decided.

  
  


*

  
  


If Mark had told his fourteen year old self he'd be hanging out with Kian Egan in a whiskey bar on the open sea, he wouldn't have believed it.

He wasn't sure he believed it now. It was late. They'd downed a few more drinks on the upper deck, had a bit of a dance, and eventually Derrick had wandered off with a girl, Graham had announced he was going to go throw up in the room, and Michael had mentioned that they could go for a walk, maybe, see what was going on.

Now they were spilled back into leather armchairs at the front of the ship, the waves parting so far below them you had to lean right up to the glass to see.

“So.” Shane's eyes were closed, but that wasn't stopping him lifting his scotch glass to his mouth every few seconds. Mark suspected they were all much more plastered than any of them would admit to. “How'd you meet Nicky?”

“Karaoke.” Mark covered his mouth against a burp. Kian had his cheek leaned against the glass, was leaving a lovely foggy stain and watching them through sleepy eyes. “S'like... three weeks after I started at Trinity and we just like... hit it off, basic'ly. S'my best friend.” He realised he was smiling to himself.

“Tha's nice. Gillian's my best friend.”

“Best friends are nice,” Mark sighed. Shane nodded solemnly. “Yep.” He blinked at them, wondering if he was supposed to tell more of the story.

“You living together?”

“Nah. He's doing Garda training? So he's off at the barracks all the time an' I'm in my hall sort of thing but like...” He bit his lip when he realised he'd forgotten where that sentence was going, picked it up a moment later. “Yeah. We talk on the phone a lot.”

“Must be nice getting away together.”

“Yeah. Bit of a s'prise, ri? Just showed up and asked if I wanted to go cos it was paid for already.”

“That's really romantic.”

“Guess it is.” It had been, anyway, for Georgina. Mark wasn't sure if he could handle more questions, figured he was barely on the line of the truth as it was and didn't want to have to remember which lies he'd told the next morning when he woke up hungover. “He's good at romance. Always does like flowers and chocolates and sends cards and things. He made a mix CD once.”

“Haven't made one of those since I was twelve,” Shane chuckled. Kian snorted as well. Michael was either asleep or unconscious, was snoring gently in his seat. “Except it was on tape, at the time.”

“I gave one of those to Sinead Duffy,” Kian sighed. “Thought I was really cool putting like all this thrash metal and stuff on there. Figured she wore black and makeup and that, she'd be into it.”

“She wasn't?”

“Her boyfriend found it and beat the shit outta me.”

“Oops,” Shane laughed. Mark rolled his eyes. He'd remembered Kian getting into more than one fight. There was always talk that he'd called someone's mam a whore, that someone was meeting him outside the local for a punch up after school. “How was that?”

“S'alright. He came after me again a week later and I laid him out. I wasn't taking that shit. Having people think I couldn't stand up for meself.”

“Maybe you should've stopped hitting on their girlfriends.”

“Maybe.” Kian closed his eyes with a smile. “Nice girl, Sinead. Let me finger her in the toilets before the graduation ceremony. Good thing about the robe being loose.” The smile turned into a smirk. “Hated school, but there are some things I miss.”

“Couldn't get me back there for anything,” Mark sighed. “Loathed every minute of it.”

“It was alright,” Shane mumbled. “You were alright.”

“I got the shit kicked out of me,” Mark argued. Kian's eyes darted away again, but if he was going to take the blame he didn't say anything. “Why do you think I moved to Dublin? Gettin' as far from those people as fucking poss'ble.” He willed his voice not to shake, wasn't confident it was working.

“Really? I always thought you were fine.” Shane was looking at him curiously. “I thought you were cool.” Mark barked a laugh. “Seriously. You were like that arty loner kid who didn't care what people thought, smoking behind the sheds and that. I figured you were off doing something interesting.”

“I wasn't.” Mark was baffled. “I spent two years of lunch in the library 'cause I figured at least there was a teacher there if someone came after me.”

“Fucking hell.” Shane shook his head. “Sorry. You weren't in my year, I just figured...” He glanced at Kian, who was busy staring into his glass. “Did you know?” Kian mumbled something that sounded like 'not really' and shook his head. “Well, shit.” Shane groped clumsily at Mark's sleeve. “Mate. Mate.” Mark smiled numbly back. “I love you.”

“Thanks.” They both looked over when Kian burst out laughing, which quickly turned into a cough when it became apparent he still had a mouthful of scotch. “Don't die,” Mark suggested helpfully. Kian gave him a thumbs up, hand still over his mouth, cheeks red while he hacked out whatever had gone down the wrong way.

“Cheers,” he croaked. Shane beamed at both of them.

“I'm going to be sick,” he announced. Mark squinted at him. “Get me another drink?”

He stalked purposefully away. They both stared after him, Kian with streaming eyes. Mark drained the rest of his drink.

“I'm going to bed.” He put a hand on the chair for balance when he stood up. “See ya.”

“Yeah.” Kian reached for his glass again. “Night.”

  
  


*

  
  


Mark woke the next morning with Nicky beside him, drooling into the pillow. It was something he'd never intended to see in closeup, didn't really know what to do about it now, but he had the distinct impression that if he moved he was going to be sick, and that was more than enough reason to keep still.

Nicky grunted. Rolled over onto his back. Mark wasn't sure who the reek of alcohol was coming from and didn't much mind. There were two wine bottles on the night-stand, one empty, the other stopped just before the finish line. The lid was off and there was a glass beside it, sat in a drying pool of red.

Mark supposed it was good sign that he'd used a glass at all.

He made it to the shower. Fell in. Clocked an uneaten piece of cheesecake on the sideboard as he passed that he vaguely remembered swiping from the buffet on the way back to the room. Didn't remember much else except there had been drinking and plastic leis and Kian had been there, watching him carefully while Mark had tried not to stumble over his own half-truths.

The rest pieced itself together slowly. By the time the cold water washed away the worst of the fumes he was reasonably sure he hadn't fucked up completely. Was wondering if he'd come off as bitter, ranting on about slights in highschool that nobody else had apparently noticed.

He'd noticed. Kian had too, apparently.

He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

The bathroom door shot open. Nicky was over the toilet in a heartbeat, retching.

“Jesus, Nicky...!”

“Notlooking.” He held up a hand in blind defence. Mark tried to cover himself. Wished there was a curtain in this shower and not just a glass door. Nicky threw up. Mark tried not to do the same. His stomach heaved in sympathy.

Mark sank back under the water, watching warily. Tried to finish off as quickly as possible but Nicky was true to his word, kept his head down and eyes turned away, though Mark didn't know if that was necessarily to do with chivalry and more to do with the distraction of throwing up red wine in a bathroom that was moving beneath him.

“Good.” Nicky stood up, wiping his mouth. “Yep.” He turned glassily to peer in the mirror. “Thanks for the cheesecake by the way.”

“No problem.” Mark shut the water off. Grabbed a towel quickly to cover his bottom half. Nicky was leaning his forehead against the glass, breath misting the surface. “How was your evening?”

“How was yours?” Nicky gave him a knowing smirk. “I went to bed at one.”

“Um.” He ducked out of the room quickly to grab a t-shirt. It was awkward trying to shrug it on over wet skin, his other hand pinning the towel, but somehow he managed it. Nicky was already stripping off, utterly unself-conscious. “Just getting your kit off?”

“What? You gonna check me out or something?” He climbed into the stall Mark had just vacated.

“...no.”

“Why? What's wrong with me?” Nicky gave him a smirk. Rolling his eyes seemed a good excuse to look away, so Mark did that, finished by turning his eyes to the floor. “What did you do last night?”

“Er...” He reached for a pair of tracksuit bottoms, stepped just out of view of the door to tug them on. He could hear Nicky humming, voice echoing off the tiles. “Ran into Shane. Had a couple of drinks?”

“A couple.”

“A few,” Mark allowed. Nicky's disembodied snort came from the other room. “It was alright. What are we doing today?” If Nicky noticed him changing the topic he didn't noticed. “We'll be in Bilbao by eleven.”

“We will.” The water shut back off. When Mark looked Nicky was out of the shower, was peering at himself in the foggy mirror, a towel barely around his hips. “Nothing concrete planned. I was going to see how the proposal went first, to be honest. Figured we'd check out the tourism desk.” He glanced at Mark, studied him for a moment, then looked back at himself. “If you're not up to it we can always stay here, or hit the beach.”

“Beach sounds fine.” Mark flopped onto the bed. Nicky wasn't far behind him. “Might have a rest first.”

“Gotta recharge.” Nicky's wet hair was soaking into the pillow. “No point getting out there before noon.”

“No point at all.” Mark yawned, closing his eyes.

  
  


*

  
  


It was almost one when they staggered down the gangplank. Nicky seemed to be doing okay, had a careful stride that suggested equilibrium was more important than anything, sunglasses on to protect him from the light. It wasn't too far to the beach. Already packed, of course, a warm day and a fresh load of tourists in, but they found a spot halfway up the sand, the view of the sparkling sea broken by umbrellas and children running around in their bathers.

It wasn't like Sligo beaches; long and pebbly, edged by grass and hills. This was like the ones from holiday postcards. Hot, the sand soft and fine, catching in the towel as he laid it out.

“I'll mind the stuff if you want to go in first.”

“I'm alright,” Mark said carefully. Taking his shirt off in front of a couple of masseurs in a closed room was one thing, this was an altogether less comfortable prospect. Obviously he was the only one with that problem. A large guy in a small speedo cheerfully eclipsed the sun as he passed them.

“Up to you.” Nicky was already peeling off his t-shirt. Mark took a moment to admire him. He'd always been fit. Somehow exuded an aura of being tanned despite the lack of Irish sun, his hair paled with bleach. Slender and strong and stomach flat and chest waxed and the kind of cheeky smile that suggested he was thinking naughty things about you too.

Not that Mark was looking.

Nicky darted off at a sprint, his heels kicking up sand in small flurries.

Mark lay back and wondered if his sun cream was thick enough to withstand the Spanish sun.

  
  


*

  
  


They left Bilbao that evening. It had been an odd, almost anticlimatic sort of day. In a new country for the first time and all they'd managed to see was the area directly in sight of the ship.

Mark hadn't gone in. Nicky had teased him, cajoled him, tugged on his hand repeatedly and tried to shove him towards the water, but he'd been having none of it. It wasn't his thing. Never had been. A bit of a paddle and the breakers running between his toes was fine. Getting further out felt too much like losing control. Being overwhelmed by the size of it and sucked out, half-naked and drowning.

They saw the other lads from a distance as they walked back. Kian was stood at the surf hire place, obviously returning a board. Mark hadn't known he could surf. He looked cheerful, was smiling and dripping water, sand a pale stocking up one leg and down the inside of the other.

He yelped when he felt a splash, saw Nicky giggling behind him, stood in ankle-deep water.

“Nicky! Hey-” He yelped when Nicky kicked water at him again. Turned to lunge after him. But it was too late. Nicky was up the slope of the beach, sprinting. Mark growled and pursued, squinting to stop kicked up sand from going in his eyes. “Dickhead. Get back here...”

“Catch me first.” He darted between people, back and forth, making some of them yelp when they were caught in the wake of his feet. “Come on. You can do better than that.” He slowed slightly, began to run backwards, tongue out. “No stamina. What am I supposed to do with you.”

“Nicky...” He put his shoulders down but it was hard going with his feet sliding in the sand. Wondered why he was bothering. He could just stop and go back to the port to wait. But Nicky was grinning, looked the happiest he'd been in days, and that was almost intoxicating. Wanted to tackle Nicky to the ground and find some way to share in his happiness, because there seemed to be enough to go around.

Nicky tripped. Mark leapt, heard a squawk beneath him when they hit the sand, then rolled, both of them breathless and Nicky fighting him, hands slapping at Mark's t-shirt when Mark ended up on top, looking down.

“Got you.”

“Yeah, you did.” Nicky's eyes darted away, then looked up, chest heaving. “I'm gonna do something.”

“What?” Mark asked.

The answer was a kiss.

Mark froze, surprised. Soft lips pressing chastely to his. Nothing more than a peck, something he'd give his mam on the cheek, but Nicky wasn't his mam and that didn't explain the stutter that caught behind his teeth when he tried to protest, tried to ask what Nicky thought he was doing, kissing him on a crowded beach.

“What was that for?”

“Dunno.” His eyes darted away again, and when Mark followed he realised Kian was watching, though he looked hurriedly away. Nicky smirked. “How was that for you?”

“Yeah. Fine.” He pushed off slowly, helped Nicky to his feet when he managed to stand himself. Wanted to find a reason his legs were shaking and put it down to running in the heat. “You didn't have to do that.”

“I wanted to.” The reason wasn't forthcoming. Mark didn't know where to look. “Did you not want me to? I didn't mean to upset you.” Fingers wrapped around his arm while Nicky looked at him in concern. “Sorry.”

“That's fine.” He laughed helplessly. “Er...?”

“Was that your first kiss with a boy?”

“Yeah,” Mark admitted. “Never thought it'd be you.”

“Consider yourself honoured.” Nicky let go of him. “It was mine too. Reckon we did alright.” He stretched. Kian had gone. When Mark cast his gaze around he was walking away, Graham trotting alongside him until they rounded the edge of the cove and disappeared.

“We've gotta be back in half an hour,” Mark managed. Breathless and hot and uncomfortable. Just the run, of course. And the heat in his cheeks was just from the sun. He probably needed more cream.

A family nearby was shooting them dirty looks. Though maybe that was because Nicky had kicked sand through their picnic.

Mark began to walk back towards the port, eyes on the ground.

  
  


 


	6. Chapter 6

Maybe it was the rock of the ocean or just being away from home, but Mark's sleep had been strange ever since they'd left Dublin. It was a bit like being in a hotel. Tossing and turning and waking suddenly in the middle of the night. Aware that, no matter how comfortable it was, this bed was not yours. This room was not yours. This was a place where a thousand strangers had been and had probably slept just as poorly as you.

Still, that night was weirder. They didn't have a late one. Both were tired from the heat and after a shower, dinner, and half an hour sat on deck doing not much of anything, they conceded that maybe some TV and an early bedtime was for the best.

Mark woke just before midnight, neck twisted the wrong way and Nicky's arm around his waist.

He flinched back from the face a few inches from his. It hadn't helped that his dream had followed a similar path to this, though it had been much more confusing. A pouting, clever mouth on his, arms around his waist and the jerking, desperate feeling that with every inhale, every suck and lick, Nicky was somehow absorbing him. Extracting him from the inside out until all that was left was a dried husk.

The sea was smooth outside the window, so perfect they almost seemed not to be moving, the sky and water muddled together like the layers in a cocktail. He eased out, felt Nicky's hand grope at him before it lowered sleepily to the sheets. For a moment he sat there, disoriented, unable to look away from a soft face under messy hair.

Beautiful. Obviously stupid to think that, but Nicky was. Mark reached out. Touched a pink cheek and saw a smile turn towards his hand, almost yanked away, startled, when he felt a kiss press to his palm.

“Love you,” Nicky breathed. Mark couldn't move. While Nicky relaxed again and settled back into the pillow, hands tucked under his cheek and a sweet smile on his face.

The stars were bright and splattered across the empty sky. Mark stood at the balcony doors for a long while, staring out. Was awake now, something shuddering through his system that he suspected had started with the kiss and was still waiting to end. Had started before then, back when he'd been twelve and felt that pang of horrified realisation that his feelings were somehow not his own.

He'd walked, then. Gone and spent ages meandering around the fields and back-lanes, by himself and desperately trying to outrun his own thoughts, until the constant rain had run down the back of his jacket and his feet had ached in his boots. Hid behind rock walls and sat by the edge of the lake, staring out at ripples that had spread until they'd disappeared, pricked into the surface by the millions of tiny lives beneath.

The hallway was quiet. He stepped out, adjusting the tracksuit bottoms he'd stepped into silently, one eye on Nicky to make sure he hadn't woken him. He'd left a note on the pad by the door. _Gone for a walk. Back soon._

There were still people above decks, though the busy period had long since died down and all the families had put their children to bed. A couple were swaying near the pool to the soft music drifting through the speakers and a group of girls were in the hot tub nearer to the bar, where the bartender was wiping down glasses and looking bored.

Mark climbed the stairs slowly. Towards the back and able to see the runnels of foam behind them, spreading and brightening as they caught the moonlight. Breathed in deep, tasting salt.

Maybe this had been a mistake. Two weeks was a long time. They were only barely on the fifth day and already he felt suffocated. Like things were less in control than he wanted, slipping through his fingers. He'd wanted time to think. Time away. Time alone.

Instead he had Nicky. His best friend. Who had been more accepting than Mark had ever expected. Ever deserved. Had been so accepting he'd been kissed on a beach in Spain, whether he'd wanted it or not.

He could still taste it on his lips.

The stairs behind him rattled slightly. He didn't turn. Probably a waiter or someone, cleaning up glasses.

“Hey.” Hands grasped the rail beside him. When he turned he saw a nervous smile, blonde hair that flopped messily over earnest blue eyes.

“Hey.” Mark licked his lips, looked back out at the ocean. Tried to stop his heart from racing. From having that same terrified lurch it had had all those times before, when Kian had snuck up behind him without warning.

“Nice night.”

“It is, yeah.” He could hear Kian breathing, a harmony to the rumble of the liner, the rush of salty breeze. “Couldn't sleep. Woke up and the stars were out and I figured...” He shivered slightly in the cool air.

“Yeah, I can never sleep in a new place. Graham doesn't have that problem. He was snoring like a tractor when I left.”

“Nicky was out too.” He wasn't sure if he'd said it to see Kian's reaction or not, but there wasn't one. “It's a novelty, actually, having the proper sized bed. When he crashes at mine it's a bit of a fight over the single.” Kian snorted.

“My ex was a bit like that. I mean, we had a queen but somehow I'd still end up with a knee in my back.” He smiled at Mark. “I'm erm... I'm glad. That you're happy.” Mark nodded warily. “I want to apologise. I was angry at school and maybe I gave you a hard time.”

“Did you? I didn't notice.” It came out more savagely than he'd intended. He looked back at the water, not caring to see Kian's expression. Not brave enough. “It wasn't just a hard time, Kian. You made me life hell. I still have nightmares, you know that? I can't even...” The lump in his throat was hard to swallow, though the anger helped wash it down. “You know what? I could go into a fucking essay about how badly you fucked up my life, but honestly I don't really want to relive it, so thanks for your time. I'm glad you've made peace with it. I'm sure it doesn't keep you up at night.”

“You didn't help yourself, you know.”

“I...” The flash of anger made him turn before he could register the words. “Excuse me?”

“You didn't. I mean, I was shitty but it was school. Everyone was shitty.” Mark's jaw dropped. “I used to get beaten up on a regular basis. I got over it.” He shrugged. “Maybe if you'd been less obvious, or like...”

“Less...” Mark didn't know what to say. “You were the one who was _doing_ it, Kian.” He shoved away from the railing. “What's wrong with you?”

“What? If I'd acted like that you think people would have left me alone?”

“Acted how?” His hands were trembling fists. “Gay?” Kian shrugged. “How did I act gay, Kian? Was it the guys I was fucking all over the place? Or was it the fact that I was scared and you decided I was an easy target. I thought about _killing_ myself.” He stopped, hand halfway to his mouth. Wondered if it had known what he was about to say and meant to cover it. Apparently it was too late. “I thought about killing myself.” He'd never said it before. Never really processed it, except that there had been long hours spent in his room, ones where he'd wondered if anyone would mind if he'd just stopped existing. If anyone but his family would even notice him gone.

“Mark...”

“No. You don't get to...” He closed his eyes, breathed out as slowly as he could, trying to centre himself. When he opened them Kian was chewing his bottom lip. “What are you sorry for, exactly? Because it was my fault and you couldn't help yourself?” His back collided with the railing and he leaned against it, a laugh bubbling out that didn't feel like it belonged to him.

“It wasn't easy for me either,” Kian said flatly. “What do you know, anyway? Everybody knew you were going somewhere, with your good marks. The only place people thought I was going was to pick up rubbish in an orange jumpsuit.”

“Maybe you should have stopped treating people like shit, then.”

“Some lad came to my house once and punched me in the face. For no reason.” Kian crossed his arms, scowling. “My bike got thrown in the lough because some twat thought I looked at him wrong. They set my school-bag on fire. Twice.” Mark blinked. He'd heard something about it, but had assumed it had been something to do with Kian doing whatever stupid, delinquent bullshit he was always getting up to. “Maybe I did you a favour. Hardened you up.”

“I didn't want to be hardened up. I wanted to be left alone.”

“Yeah, well, I wanted friends.” He wasn't making eyecontact. Mark couldn't catch a breath. “People thought it was funny. You were this weird fat kid who kept singing all the time and always put your hand up and nobody minded seeing you brought down a peg.”

“Well, enjoy your friends,” Mark murmured. Kian still wasn't looking at him. Mark glanced over the side, saw blackness staring up at him, studded by glowing portholes. “Stay away from me. I don't care what you do, but stay away from me. I'm the last person who wants to be your friend.”

He pushed away from the railing.

If Kian meant to say something it was swept away by the rushing of the sea and the anger pulsing through Mark's ears.

  
  


*

  
  


He didn't sleep well the rest of the night. Didn't know how to when everything was anger. There was a futility about it. The sort of anger that seethed, oozed up through his pores until he felt covered in it, weighed down and unable to shake off the slick that seemed to rise every time he moved, burned in every breath.

When the sun rose he was sat on the balcony with his headphones in, wondering if he could boil the sea with his gaze alone. There were birds swooping. Close to shore but not in sight of it, the ship a long shadow in the dawn breaking on the other side. Portugal was still a day away.

“You okay?”

“No.” He forced his teeth to ungrit. Shook the hand off as soon as it settled on his shoulder. “Not now.”

“What's wrong?”

“I don't... want to talk about it.” He looked away, trying to hide his face. Had been on the verge of tears for hours and knew his eyes were red. He jerked when he felt Nicky embrace him carefully from behind, a chin land on his shoulder. Wanted to pull away but couldn't find the energy.

“You don't have to.” Mark nodded stiffly. “Want to be left alone for a bit?” He nodded again. The breath he dragged in through his nose sounded more like a wet sniff. Nicky kissed his cheek. “S'alright. I'm going to hit the gym, then grab some breakfast. I'll bring you back something.”

“Thanks,” he breathed. “Fuck.”

“Yeah.” Nicky let him go. “I know.”

  
  


*

  
  


Two hours later Nicky came back with a plate of scrambled eggs, toast and roast vegetables. Mark ate them cross-legged on the bed, listening to Nicky shave in the tiny bathroom. He was singing softly, his voice warping every time he went careful around his mouth, and soon Mark found himself humming along absently.

“Hey.” Nicky tossed a wink at him when he leaned out the open door. “Duet?”

“Enjoying the solo. I'm fine to do backup.” He sighed and pushed the empty plate away when Nicky emerged again, wiping his face with a hand-towel. “I'm sorry.”

“For what?”

“Just...” He ran both hands through his hair. Probably time for a comb. Nicky tossed the towel back through the open door and sank down on the edge of the bed, just out of Mark's reach. “I was never...” The lump was back in his throat. “I never had friends, in school. Not properly. So when I got to uni I kind of... I dunno. Thought it was going to be the same. I never felt like I deserved...” He wiped his eyes angrily, wished he hadn't started this train of thought, not when he'd finally gotten himself under control. “Maybe it was me, you know?”

“What was you?”

“Just... I mean, I know people weren't nice to me but maybe... like, I keep thinking was there something in me? That made them...” He looked away, saw a hand move. It covered his. He closed his eyes as an arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“Hey.” It was soft. He heaved, unable to help himself. “It wasn't your fault.”

“You didn't know me then.”

“No, I know.” The kindness in Nicky's voice made him deflate. “You know, when I was doing football people use to give me stick all the time. There's your man singing Boyzone songs in the lockers. Ah, look at him with his long hair or his flash jacket or whatever else it was. I stood out.”

“You were cool, though.” Nicky harrumphed a laugh. “You had friends.”

“I did. And then when I left I felt like I'd let myself down. I was embarrassed. A couple of the lads called to say they were sorry, to see if I needed anything, but I knew just as well as they did that in a few weeks it'd all be forgotten. It didn't matter what I'd done or who I was, I'd stopped existing.”

“You exist to me.”

“I know.” Nicky pulled him closer. “So I decided I needed to get out. If old Nicky was gone, new Nicky was going to have a go of it. I bought the karaoke machine, set it up with dad, and we started booking gigs at pubs and that. I met loads of people every night. And for a while that felt like enough. I was talking to people, it must mean I had friends. But then I went home and sat in my room again and there was nobody to call. Then one night some dickhead sang Proud Mary and we got to talking. We hung out a couple of times, then when I went to do my training I figured we'd lose touch, same as everyone else, but then he kept calling, so I kept calling back, and now he's on a weird breakup cruise with me.” Mark snorted, heard an echo of it in his ear.

“You make it sound like I was following you around.”

“No. Just... there are very few people who are worth keeping. I bet all those lads really remember about me was that I used to sing Boyzone and wear flash jackets, and that's fine, because I remember even less about them. If all those people from your school saw was something they thought they knew about you, then that's their problem. I'd say they missed out.” Mark nodded against a strong shoulder as a hand stroked gently up his back. “I had two people worth keeping, apart from my family. Now I've got one.”

“I've only ever had one,” Mark murmured. “Does that make me sad?”

“No. Best to have as few as possible, to be honest. It hurts like a bitch when they leave.” Mark opened his eyes, saw a smile in his periphery and pulled back. Nicky chucked him on the chin. “Ah, there he is.”

“They were right about me, though.”

“Maybe.” Nicky shrugged. “But who gives a shit? They were right about my cool hair. Probably just jealous.”

“Of being ginger?”

“I'm not ginger.” Nicky crossed his arms. “Fuck off.”

“Ginger.” The pout was coming out now. Mark edged closer, laughed when he was shoved with a defensive shoulder. “I can see your roots.”

“You'd better watch it, Feehily.” There was a sparkle in the glare being levelled his way. “It's a long swim to Portugal, and those don't float.” He gestured at Mark's empty plate, still sat nearby at the end of the mattress. “You want to do anything today? It'd be a waste to sit in the room. We can find an activity. Maybe one with drinking.”

“Um.” Mark looked down at his pyjamas. It really was a beautiful day. “Okay,” he decided. “Ten minutes to change?”

“Five.” Nicky climbed off the bed. “And comb your hair.”

  
  


*

There wasn't much to do, so they decided to wander for a while. That was the thing about being on a ship. Despite how big it was, after a certain point they'd covered the entire thing twice, had done all the novelties they could find. Nicky mentioned there was a wine tasting thing that afternoon that Georgina had booked into, but neither of them were too bothered so they kept wandering, figured if they ran out of things to do they could always attend if they felt like it.

Mark hated to admit it, but part of him was on edge. Watching for Kian. Maybe he'd been the one to storm off but he didn't want to run into him. Didn't want to have to start this thing again, where he got to be the victim and Kian got to be oblivious in front of his friends.

“Mark.” He turned back, saw Nicky had stopped next to the open door to one of the night-clubs. It was empty, the lights low, but there was a bulletin board outside, laminated events pinned to it with start times. Nicky was grinning. “What do you reckon? Karaoke tomorrow night?”

“Thought we came to get away from work?” Mark teased. Nicky clutched his hands to his chest, begging. “Cool. If you want.” They were level again a minute later when Nicky jogged after him.

“It's hardly work. I haven't gotten to do it in ages with guard training all the time.”

“True.” Nicky had been complaining a little bit about never having enough time for anything else the last time he'd been round. “You're liking it?”

“Mostly.” Nicky stretched. “All the running's a bit of a nightmare, and the wooden chairs in the lecture hall hurt my arse.”

“That's because you don't have one.”

“I have a lovely arse, thank you very much.” Nicky crossed his arms, pouting. “Give it a grab, if you want.” He began to walk backwards, making Mark laugh. “Go on. I work hard on this thing.” He slapped it quickly, grabbed a handful, then slapped it again. “Hear that? Like a rock.” Mark was still giggling, unable to stop while Nicky shook his apparently brilliant arse.

“I don't think I'm worthy,” Mark teased. Nicky turned the right way then ducked in front, arms out to stop Mark from moving ahead. “What are you doing?”

“Not letting you past until you grab my arse.” He stopped, stuck it out backwards. “Go on. Both cheeks, if you want.” It appeared there was no choice in the matter. His hands eased forward carefully until he felt the denim of Nicky's shorts. Then, okay, there were two very firm cheeks in his hands.

It was... not entirely bad.

“Very nice.” He gave them a guilty squeeze, then let go. “You're not grabbing mine.”

“Ah, what's an arse-grab among friends?” There was room, when Nicky stepped to the side. They fell into step again, Mark still laughing and Nicky giving him a ridiculous grin. “I mean, we've kissed now so I figure anything else is fair game.”

“Is it, then?” He wasn't sure how to take that at all. Nicky was like this, though. Cheeky and not taking anything too seriously, always the one to do something silly on a dare. “We were talking about your guard training.” Nicky tilted his head, questioning. “Hard chairs and too much running.”

“Oh. Yeah.” That distracted him. “We're doing self-defence too. I'm learning how to disarm a felon in two moves or less. And then like... there's other stuff. Traffic rules. Securing a crime scene. Patting someone down.”

“You're not scared?”

“I don't know. It all feels sort of like... theoretical at this point. Maybe it'll be different in the field. Won't know until I get there. Georgina wasn't a fan, admittedly, but then it doesn't really matter what her opinion was.”

“She wasn't?”

“No.” Nicky reached his hand out, began to trail it absently down the wall of the corridor. It was a long one, stretched past the cabins up to an open door at the fair end, a little square of sunlight. They'd obviously gotten off-track, but Mark supposed it didn't really matter when there was nowhere really they were meaning to go. “Kept saying she didn't want me getting hurt. That I could drop out if I wanted and she'd support me until I found something else.”

“That's nice, though? That she cared.”

“Yeah. I suppose. It didn't feel like that, though. More like she wanted me to give up, like she thought I couldn't do it. She knew what I was doing when we started going out. I'd understand if she was worried for me, but I'd call her excited because I'd learned something cool or done well on a test and there was always this feeling like she wanted to change the topic. It was...” His hand skipped across a doorway, began to trail again on the other side. “It's shitty, but I found myself not telling her things. I'd call my mam instead. Or you.”

“What was she going to do when you were married?”

“Yeah. Been thinking about that.” No more information was apparently forthcoming, because by the time they pushed through the door and out into the sun at the other end the conversation had stopped and Nicky was humming quietly to himself, shielding his eyes from the light.

  
  


*****

  
  


His dream was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder, shaking gently. Mark moaned. Tried to bury himself in the pillow as a defence mechanism. He was shaken again and grumbled, determined not to open his eyes unless the cabin was on fire.

“Mark.” It was a whisper right near his ear. “Hey. Wake up.”

“No,” he muttered. Heard a chuckle in his ear.

“Wake up,” Nicky urged gently. “Really. You'll miss it.” Mark cracked one eye open, curiosity getting the better of him. “Just for a minute.” He was tugged towards the edge of the mattress by his ankles, relented when he realised he was going to fall off if he didn't do something and staggered to his feet, hand on the nightstand to keep his balance. “Come outside.”

“It's three in the morning,” Mark grumbled. The balcony doors were open, curtains drifting into the room with the breeze. He could see lights, he realised, the sparkling line of them in the distance. “What is it?”

The air was warm, full of salt. Nicky stepped out. Leaned on the railing, pointing towards the water closer to the front of the ship. Mark leaned beside him.

“Wait.” They both looked down. “It's been happening for a few minutes.” Mark yawned and stared down, not sure what he was looking for, then jerked in surprise when he saw something flutter out of the water then disappear with a splash. Another. Within seconds there seemed to be hundreds of them, leaping from the water, fins silver in the light, darting in the wake spilling from the side of the boat.

“What...” He laughed when he realised they were flying fish. Loads of them. Not large, maybe about the size of his arm but so many of them they were impossible to miss once he saw them. Beautiful. Sleek and glassy, flashing through the darkness. Nicky was laughing softly, leaned beside him, and when Mark turned to say something he couldn't manage it, not when Nicky was looking at him, eyes a stormy grey and his skin pale in the moonlight.

The fish stayed for a while, following the boat. An effortless, endless roll of scales, a single beautiful creature that rippled with every foamy swell. It took a while to realise Nicky's hand was in his, and when he did Mark couldn't let go, was too caught by the beauty of it. This special, amazing thing that seemed to be only for the two of them while everyone else slept.

“Wow,” Nicky murmured, as it became clear the show was almost over. Only a few now, and they were dwindling. “Glad I woke you up?”

“Yeah.” He looked down at their joined hands. Nicky did too. Squeezed, then awkwardly let go. “What were you doing up, anyway?”

“Just... dunno. Thinking.” Nicky was already turning away. The coast was getting closer now, the shape of the Lisbon skyline beginning to picket across the horizon, dotted with light. “We should probably get some sleep.”

“Probably.” Nicky was giving him a look he didn't know what to do with. Evaluating, almost. The stars were disappearing now. It would be light soon.

They climbed back into bed. It wasn't so bad, sleeping beside Nicky. He didn't snore, didn't take up too much space. There was something comfortable about it. Companionable.

It was as he was drifting off that he felt a hand slide carefully into his.

He was too tired to think about letting it go.

 


	7. Chapter 7

If anybody else had seen the flying fish the night before, Mark didn't hear about it. He supposed they must have. There couldn't have been nobody else awake to see it. Still, as the morning wore on he began to wonder if he'd dreamed it, if it was some great delusion he and Nicky had had together.

They stepped off the gangplank in Lisbon just after ten in the morning and onto a bus headed for the Oceanarium. Georgina had wanted to go apparently, and Mark didn't mind. It was nice to have something to do for the day that wasn't wandering around the ship. He was starting to go slightly mad. Wasn't sure if his body could take another day of being soaked in alcohol and left in the sun.

Lisbon was beautiful. Mark let Nicky have the window this time when it became clear Kian wasn't on the bus and he spent the trip peering over his friend's shoulder, both of them pointing at the quaint little trams they passed, the alleyways lined with red-rooved houses and cobblestone pavement. It felt like something out of a fairytale.

“Wish we could stay longer,” Nicky murmured. Mark nodded and rested his chin on his friend's shoulder to better see the street they were passing. “Maybe we can come back?” He glanced over his shoulder, and Mark paused when he realised how close Nicky was.

“You and me?”

“If you want.” His eyes were shy. The bus stopped. Mark pulled away and began to wrestle their backpacks down from the baggage compartment over his head.

They took their time in the Oceanarium. No reason to rush, after all. It was busy. A Saturday and the place filled with families, children crowding around the rock-pools and pressed against the glass for the bigger displays. It was easy to see over their heads at least. Mark and Nicky spent a long time watching the penguins, then longer in the viewing area for the largest tank, sat on a bench and watching as sharks circled and fish darted by in brilliant dashes of colour.

“Whoa.” They both stared as an enormous crab went by, picking over the bottom on long, spindly legs. “Be checking under my bed for one of those.”

“I've seen under your bed,” Nicky chuckled. “The socks and mouldy food'd keep it away.”

“I'm not that bad.”

“I found half a sandwich under there once.”

“What were you doing under my bed?”

“Snooping,” Nicky said confidently. Mark raised an eyebrow. “What? You never snoop around my place?”

“I've only been there twice.” It was easier at his hall, anyway. He liked Nicky's folks well enough but hanging out there felt a bit like being back at school, having to be on best behaviour at someone else's house. “What were you snooping for?”

“Nothing in particular. Just snooping. Something to do.” Nicky's legs kicked absently beneath the seat of the bench. “Thought I might find something incriminating, but it turns out you're not very interesting.”

“Or I'm good at hiding my incriminating stuff.”

“Really? What are you hiding?” There was a struggling silence while Mark tried to figure out how to answer that one. “See. Good try.” Nicky turned back to look at the tank, disinterested.

“I erm...” This was probably a bad idea. “I have some porn.” Nicky's eyes were lit up when he turned back.

“Really? What sort?”

“Erm. Just...” His cheeks were going red, he could already tell. “Just like... porn. Copied to a disc. Stuff I found on the internet.” The smirk was threatening to cut Nicky's face in half. “So there's that.”

“I didn't find that!”

“It's in my drawer mixed in with some uni stuff. I wrote Practical Organisation of Referential Notations on the case.” Nicky's mouth sounded over it, then he laughed out loud, slapping Mark on the back.

“Trust you to turn your wank material into a nerd thing.” Mark was still blushing. “That's brilliant. I'm proud of you. What kind of porn was it?”

“Dunno. Just... porn.”

“Gay stuff?”

“Little bit.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Not all of it. Just sort of... enough. To see. Experiment, sort of thing. You know. Control group and then a few variations.”

“Scientific,” Nicky said sagely. Mark shrugged. “So what kind of guys have you decided you're into?”

“Dunno. Not sure if I have a type yet.” They both looked up as a large sunfish floated past, blocking the light like an eclipse. “I haven't watched any of it in ages, honestly. I mean, there were some fun bits but after a while... Maybe it's silly, but it just made me remember I don't have anyone to do it with.”

“That's not really the point of porn.”

“Yeah. I know.” He looked at Nicky. “What do you watch, then, if you're the expert?”

“Whatever.” Nicky leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “It's a bit difficult. I'm living with mam and dad half the time, and the rest of the time I'm in the barracks, so personal attention tends to be about four minutes on my own when my room-mate's gone to sleep. Used to have a bunch of old skin mags I got from a friend's brother. They're probably still in the back of my drawers at home.”

“I had a few of those,” Mark chuckled. “The really old kind, where the girls are actually hairy.”

“Some amazing perms as well,” Nicky laughed. “And the lads all look like Burt Reynolds. Quality moustaches.”

“Yeah.” Some kids went skipping past, so he changed topic, thinking this probably wasn't the most appropriate conversation for them to overhear. “What would I find if I went snooping under your bed?”

“At mam and dad's? Mostly old football stuff. You know. Medals and jerseys and things. I packed a lot of it up when I came home. It didn't...” His hands spread between his knees, grasping at the air. “They didn't feel like mine any more. There's still trophies in the hall cabinet, but I put all my posters and memorabilia away.”

“What are you going to do with them?”

“Dunno. Keep them. Maybe go through them all later, like when I eventually move out. I keep feeling a bit like I'm in limbo. I'll probably get transferred once I finish training. A lot of the new lads get placed in one of the rural stations so I don't want to do anything concrete until then.”

“You'll move away?” Mark felt his stomach sink. He didn't see Nicky often as it was.

“I honestly don't know. It's up to whoever's in charge.”

“Oh.” Mark nodded. “We'll keep in touch, though?”

“Course we will.” Nicky's face had softened when he looked over his shoulder. Mark realised his own probably didn't look to cheerful. “Course we will.” His friend sat up, pulled him into a hard hug, a bit awkward sat beside each other on the bench. When they drew apart Nicky's hand was still on the back of his neck. “Hey, maybe you can find a teaching job in whatever arsefuck town I end up in, and we can be the coolest people in like... Wexford.”

“You and me living together? People might think we're a couple.”

“I don't know where they'd get that idea,” Nicky chuckled. Mark realised they were still sat close, Nicky's fingers soft on the back of his neck and face awash with the blue light of the tank, playing a mosaic over his skin that rippled with every shape that flitted by. A pointed tongue darted out to wet pouting lips. Mark swallowed.

“We should probably keep moving,” Mark managed. “We've still got the otters to look at and I could use some lunch.”

“Good idea.” Nicky blinked, clearing away the studying expression he'd been directing at Mark. When he stood up Mark could still feel the whisper of touch on the back of his neck. “Maybe we can ask someone about the flying fish from last night?”

“Maybe.” He was grateful when they emerged from the corridor and back into the light again. Maybe it had been something to do with the dark, the slight otherworldliness of the drifting creatures in the tank, but he felt off-kilter. Like something had shifted somewhere and he couldn't find it to set it right again.

  
  


*

  
  


They left the Oceanarium to a storm brewing. It was warm, a sticky humidity that clung to their skin, the clouds a blue-grey that pressed down on the air, claustrophobic and threatening.

The bus wasn't due for a few more hours so they spent the next while exploring. It was a strange, lonely walk along the waterfront, talking softly and watching the couple of brave folks fishing on the pier and people bustling along, eyes darting to the sky.

“Bet it'll be a good one,” Mark commented, as they finally turned around and began to head back towards the pick-up spot. Nicky had been quiet since they'd left, but then so had Mark. He didn't mind. “Want to hide in the cabin and watch TV?”

“We've got karaoke tonight,” Nicky reminded him. He crossed his arms against a small shiver as a gust of wind swept through the alleyway, dragging the first mist of a light spit of rain. Within moments it was beginning to drizzle, a spattering that turned into fat, obstinate drops. “Ah shit.”

“Just a bit of rain.” He looked up, sighing when the raindrops hit his face, cold and clear. When he opened his eyes and looked back down Nicky was smiling. “What?”

“Nothing.” A hand touched his for a moment, nails scraping fondly down his wrist. They both jumped at a sudden flash of lightning so bright their own shadows seemed to disappear. “One. Two. Three...” There was a menacing rumble of thunder, low and sullen. Mark felt the hairs on his arms and neck prickle with electricity. “It's close. We should probably get inside.”

“Probably.” There was another flash. Suddenly the rain was a slam. They leapt out of it, under an awning and into a doorway, saw other people scatter as well, most of them moving bowlegged and holding their hats down in the rising wind. Nicky was laughing, looked bedraggled but too surprised to be upset. His carefully styled hair was plastered down, cheeks pale with cold.

“Just a bit of rain,” he teased. Mark laughed, pushing his own hair back off his dripping forehead.

“Just a bit.” They were still squashed in the doorway, Nicky almost pressed against him, so close Mark could feel the heat of him. He closed his eyes. Realised the rest of him had been more aware of that than he'd allowed himself to admit.

No. No, this wasn't happening. This was really inconvenient and wasn't happening.

Not with his best friend.

“What you got your eyes closed for?”

“No reason.” Nicky was watching him curiously when his eyes opened again. “Want to keep walking? We're wet now, so we might as well.”

“True.” Nicky slicked his plastered hair off his forehead. He looked sweet. Smaller and younger and his eyes a brighter blue, a raindrop webbing the lashes of the right one together. Mark swept it away with his thumb without thinking, then felt his heart thud faster when he realised he was almost cupping Nicky's cheek, the two of them looking at each other.

Mark let his hand drop. Nicky was shrugging up his hood, apparently oblivious to Mark's blush.

They stepped out of their cover and began to make their way along the street, ducking beneath awnings and overhanging shopfronts as cold rain sheeted down alongside them.

  
  


*

  
  


Karaoke was already crowded when they arrived. Nicky had been kind enough to let Mark shiver into the shower first after they climbed back onto the ship. It had helped. Had washed away the frozen numbness in his fingers and toes, brought the blood back to the surface while he'd stood there, forehead pressed against the tiles, trying to figure out just how to pull this one back from the brink.

It didn't make sense. Three years of being friends with Nicky and he'd never felt like this. It had never occurred to him to feel like this. They were close, of course, but it had always been strictly platonic. They'd play-wrestled on the floor and all Mark had been was a bit out of breath and determined to get Nicky back next time.

He'd never...

He'd wanted to kiss Nicky. Wanted it more than he was prepared to deal with. Maybe it was confusion. The moments of careful contact over the last week, even if it had been a farce. Spilling his heart open and having Nicky pour his out in return and feeling for the first time like he was being honest with himself. Making a connection that wasn't about staying up until one in the morning drunk and watching TV, but was about something else. Something emotional and raw that he'd not meant to inflict upon himself when he'd tossed his luggage on the carousel and followed Nicky onboard.

He couldn't do this. Nicky didn't need him to be this, the arsehole turning their friendship into an unrequitable crush.

It was time to get a hold of himself. He was confused and latching onto something that felt safe. Because Nicky had always felt safe. Had always been a caring shoulder. A soft place to fall. Had been the person to not bother asking about his sexuality because he respected Mark's privacy and because it hadn't mattered to him anyway, because their friendship was worth more than who Mark was attracted to.

“Want a drink?” Nicky asked. Mark looked up from the table he'd just sat down at, off to the right of the stage and squashed in a corner. It was about the last one left. The rain was still coming down heavily, he could hear it thrumming whenever the doors opened to let someone in from the balcony corridor outside, and most of the above-deck activities had been cancelled. The sea wasn't properly rough, not yet, but he could feel the slight roll of it. A few people were looking slightly green, had probably come down just to spend the evening somewhere deep enough in the ship that it wouldn't sway so much.

Nicky had just wandered off to the bar when the door on the other side opened and Kian stepped in.

Mark felt his heart lurch. The other four boys followed in behind him, Shane bringing up the rear while Mark looked helplessly around for Nicky, wanting to give some sort of sign that he needed a rescue, though Nicky was busy ordering and he didn't want to lose the table by running away.

Graham spotted him. Waved. Mark waved weakly back, saw five sets of eyes fix on him until Kian said something and gestured to a row of stools against the other side of the room, closer to the stage.

He let out a sigh of relief, glad it was so crowded. Nicky was back a moment later holding what Mark first thought was a small fishbowl but turned out to be their cocktails.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” Mark glanced towards Kian again. They were crowded around a copy of the song list, looked anything but interested in him. “Thanks.” He stared into the glass bowl that had been put down on the table in front of him, filled with fruit, orange and purple liquid, and ice. There were four straws poking out, at least three umbrellas, lime and strawberry pieces settled on the rim, and a few berries floating in it's midst like dazed fish. “What's this?”

“Cheeky Goldfish,” Nicky announced. “I thought it looked exciting. There's definitely prosecco, vodka and something else in there.”

“Something else?”

“The secret ingredient is more alcohol.” Mark guided a straw hesitantly to his mouth. Nicky bent and did the same, their noses almost touching. It was almost sickly sweet. Very fruity and easy to drink, though definitely not for kids. He wondered just how many shots were in this, then realised he didn't care. Nicky pulled away smacking his lips. “I was going to suggest a toast, but we've only got one glass.”

“Team effort.” They lifted it together, laughing, Nicky holding the other side of the bowl. “What are we toasting?”

“To... friendship and new beginnings.”

“Friendship.” Nicky's smile made his stomach flip. “New beginnings.”

“Cheers.” They put it back down. Nicky leaned in for another sip. “Kian's over there, so you know.” Mark tried to shrug disinterestedly, wasn't sure if it was convincing. Kian was the least of his troubles.

They both looked up as the room dimmed and the host took the stage. Mark could see Nicky judging her already. Some poor girl who'd caught karaoke duty and obviously wasn't a consummate professional like Nicholas Byrne. The book came past. Nicky snagged it, began to flick furiously, determination in his eyes.

“You go first, if you want. I'll mind the table.”

“Cheers.” Nicky stopped and jabbed the point of his finger at something on the page. “Winner. There you go.” He shoved the book at Mark. “Better pick something good, Feehily. I'm hot tonight.” Mark snorted as he charged off to talk to the man running the machine while the first singer got up, a dark-haired woman who looked like she had too many gins under her belt.

Nicky was up fifth, climbed up to take the microphone. It was barely a stage, just a raised catwalk leading from the back wall to about a third of the way down the room.

There was a cheer from up the back. Shane was clapping loudly, the other lads as well, and Mark joined in, winking when Nicky shot a grin his way.

“This one's for Mark,” he said, as the music began. A Boyzone song. Of course it was a bloody Boyzone song.

“ _I may not need to sail the ocean..._  
I've got no need to climb a mountain high...  
But there'll be no time I won't need you  
by my side...”

Mark giggled uncomfortably, felt his cheeks go red. One of Nicky's favourite songs of course, definitely for the benefit of the charade they were clumsily playing out, but it dazed him anyway when Nicky pointed at him and shook his hips, sending titters of laughter and indulgent cheers through the crowd.

Nicky was good at this. Good at playing up to the crowd. It didn't _mean_ anything. Not when a pointed tongue darted out, not when Nicky blew a kiss before hitting the chorus, an enormous grin on his face as he turned back to the microphone.

“ _I'll never not want you sharing my life..._  
I'll never not need to feel your touch at night...  
No there's one thing that I'll never not do,  
I'll never not need you...”

He left the stage to applause. Shane was whooping, stood up to give him a high-five on the way past.

Nicky was smirking when he sat down. Then, without warning, he leaned in, planting a kiss on Mark's cheek. “Beat that,” was whispered in his ear, as his friend's soft, pouting lips pulled away from his skin.

He was shaking when Nicky pulled away. Not sure why, exactly. Wanted to cry. Didn't know how to do anything except smile when Nicky shot him a conspiratorial wink and reached for the fishbowl.

No. Fuck it.

This was a game. It didn't mean anything.

The book came past again. He grabbed it, began to flick, looking for...

Right.

He passed it on and began to stalk up to the stage, determined.

  
  


*

  
  


Mark was regretting this already. The space looked too small, too crowded. Silly, probably. He'd done this before. A hundred times. It had been his one joy in school, had been the only place he'd felt at home in a room full of other people. People were clapping politely. Shane and the lads were clapping louder, though Kian was watching him carefully with an expression Mark couldn't read. Something slow and studying like he was filing this away for later.

He swallowed. Saw Nicky grinning on the other side, the almost-empty fishbowl held in both hands. Mark had had more than he'd thought, had drunk too much of it while he'd been nervously watching Nicky, and now he was swaying slightly, thinking maybe it was the alcohol's fault he'd made this decision.

“This is for Nicky,” he mumbled. Nicky sat up straighter, waving. Mark waved uselessly back as the music kicked in and words began to crawl across the monitor.

Saw Nicky realise.

His voice almost stuck on the first line.

“ _Baby when you're grinding, I get so excited..._  
Ooh how I like it, I try but I can't fight it...  
Oh you're dancing real close, cos it's real slow  
You're making it hard for me...”

He couldn't look at anyone else. Couldn't even begin, not when the room began to clap, a loud beat that almost put him off. Nicky was dancing in his seat, grinning back, and maybe this hadn't been a complete disaster.

Fuck it.

“ _Step back you're dancing real close_  
I feel a little poke coming through, on you...  
Now boy I know you felt it, but boo you know I can't help it,  
You know what I wanna do...”

How he made it through the song he didn't know. Was sure he was red. There was something oddly empowering in it, though. He'd have never done this at home, didn't have the guts, but by the last chorus people were clapping and cheering, the lads from school were dancing next to the stage, and Nicky was giving him a look so surprised it almost made everything worth it.

He stumbled down to applause, got a high-five from Shane as well, then from Graham. Michael and Derrick were laughing and clapping so hard they looked like they were going to hurt themselves.

Kian...

“Nice one.” He stuck out a hand. Mark glanced at it.

He turned away, back towards Nicky, leaving Kian's hand dangling in the air.

The hug swept him up. He heard a laugh in his ear, then Nicky was pulling back and...

The kiss was hard. He froze. There was a hand on the back of his head, holding him in, a tongue in his mouth. His eyes closed automatically, and then fuck, it was deep, his hands settling uselessly on Nicky's waist while his hips tried not to tilt in.

A scrunched up napkin hit him in the side of the head when he pulled back, breathless. Nicky was grinning at him.

“Get a room!” Shane shouted.

“We've got one!” Nicky retorted over Mark's shoulder. There was a ripple of laughter. “Think you won,” Nicky murmured, as the next singer got up and diverted attention from the assembled guests.

“Yeah. Um.” He swallowed. Realised his hands were still on Nicky's waist. “Um.” He could still feel eyes on him, wasn't sure they were all approving. Someone whispered and pulled a child away, and in the midst of his confusion he hoped he wasn't going to be used as a excuse to teach a young mind how to hate.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing. It doesn't matter.” He sat down, picked up the fish bowl. A grumbling ripple of thunder shook the air. The ship heaved, long and endless while the swell caught it.

There was a sudden thrum of rain as a door opened on the other side of the room.

A second later Kian was gone.

  
  


 


	8. Chapter 8

They cleared the storm sometime during the night. Mark woke just before dawn to find the sea flat, reflecting the dark clouds still swathing the sky. Nicky was asleep beside him.

It was too early to get up. Part of him meant to roll over and go back to sleep. Instead he stayed. Watching parted pink lips, long lashes. Nicky's knee was bent up between them, keeping them apart, but one hand was stretched out, almost touching Mark's chest. He looked...

“Hey,” Mark murmured, when blue eyes fluttered open. His heart was galloping, terrified it had been caught out. Nicky blinked at him in confusion.

“Hey.” The hand came in to cover his mouth while Nicky cleared his throat. “Mm.” His eyes closed again. “Time?”

“Just before five?”

“Ah, fuck that then.” He rolled over onto his back with a grunt, leaving Mark lost in a fond smile he hadn't meant to make. “Oops. Sorry.” The blanket yanked over, and before it was hidden Mark realised Nicky was hard, his boxer briefs pinched sideways and barely covering the morning erection settled there. “Must have had a good dream.”

“Must have.” His mouth was wet. Why was his fucking mouth wet? “I'll clear off if you want to...”

“It'll sort itself out.” Nicky stretched, then opened one eye again to look at Mark. It flicked up. Down. Closed. “I mean, it could have been the snog from last night, so we'll blame you.”

“Will we?” The laugh was hollow. “Um. Yeah. Are we... I mean, are we alright about that?”

“Course. Why wouldn't we be?”

“Just...” He shifted awkwardly. Wanted to move closer. Wanted to put as much distance between them as possible and was just glad Nicky's eyes were closed because he kept looking downwards without meaning to. “That was quite a kiss.”

“Yeah it was. Good for you.” Nicky's fist flailed blindly for a second before finding Mark's arm long enough to punch it gently. “Did you see Kian leg it, though? Good craic. And you stiffing him on the handshake was inspired. How you feeling?”

“I... don't know.” He didn't. Suspected his teenaged self would be cheering, him getting some sort of superiority over Kian, even if it was just for a moment. Adult Mark had a feeling he'd been a bit of a prick. Been the petty wanker he usually despised. Maybe Kian had treated him like crap, but he didn't know if sinking to his level was the best response.

“And who knew you were sexy? Even I was up for it after that one.”

“Ha. Yeah. Thanks.” Sobriety wasn't helping the memory. “Well, you told me to beat that, so I figured...”

“Consider me beat.” Nicky opened his eyes, glanced downwards. “We should probably stop talking about beating me, though.” He chuckled and lay back, not looking concerned about having an erection with his best friend laying beside him. Mark wasn't feeling quite so cavalier. “We've got a dance class this afternoon. You want to learn how to samba?”

“Er... no?” Mark's horrified face must have filtered through because Nicky snorted. “Please no?”

“It's fine. I was more interested in the cha-cha lessons anyway.” Nicky yawned. “We're doing at least one dance class before we leave, by the way, even if it's just a waltz.”

“Maybe you can find a girl who'll do it with you?”

“Why do I need a girl when I've got you?”

“When I've got you, you mean?”

“Ooh, he thinks I'm the girl. That's bold.” Nicky laughed and rolled over onto his front, eliciting only the smallest wince. “I'm not the bum, kiddo. Not in a million years.” He smiled sleepily. “You ever try it?”

“What?”

“Sticking things up there?” Nicky's eyes cast down, making Mark shrink. “I mean, I know lasses who have done it, but it's supposed to be different, right? Like feel better if you're a lad?”

“I... I wouldn't know.” It was a struggle not to just bury his face in the pillow and roll under the bed to get away. “I don't think I want to.” He was about to have a panic attack. Mostly because there were some indistinct images coming to mind, most of which involved one of them bent over. “At least we don't have to fake that one, right?”

“Not unless things get really out of hand,” Nicky chuckled. He turned to look out the balcony doors. “Sun's coming up. I might as well go to the gym.” When he pushed himself up on his hands and knees it appeared the erection had gone. Mark didn't know if he missed it or not. “Is it pointless asking you to come with me?”

“Really pointless.” Mark pulled the blanket over himself now that it wasn't being occupied. Tried not to think about what it had just been covering. “Night.”

“Night,” Nicky snorted. “I'll be back in a couple hours.” Fingers stroked gently through Mark's hair, much to his surprise, and when Mark looked up it was into a gentle gaze that stole his breath. Then Nicky was up and stepping into his shorts, toeing on his runners, acting like nothing had happened. He grabbed a t-shirt as well, was shrugging it on as he opened the door, apparently not worried if half the corridor could see his naked torso.

Mark buried his face in the pillow and tried to figure out what to do about his own morning predicament.

  
  


*

  
  


It was easier not to do anything, in the end. It felt wrong. Nicky was his best friend, and maybe things had been a bit confused, but there was no way he could touch himself and not think about it. About Nicky, and the way he'd stretched, hard in his tight boxer briefs, bare chest perfect in the rising sun. About nipples, soft and flat, but which would probably harden under Mark's tongue, right up until Nicky shoved him off and punched him in the jaw.

Cold water helped, a bit. He stood under the shower-head, shivering, until he couldn't stand it. By the time the hot kicked in he was soft, but still no less confused.

He had just finished brushing his teeth when there was a knock on the door of the cabin. Mark went to answer it, ready to tease Nicky about having forgotten his key card.

“Hey.” Kian shifted awkwardly. “Sorry. I know it's early.”

“What do you want?”

“Just... to talk?” Kian's eyes kept darting down. Mark felt abruptly exposed. Realised he was stood in front of his highschool bully wearing a towel and not much else. “I can wait if you want to get dressed?”

“Yeah. Erm.” He shut the door in Kian's face then began to look for his clothes. Wasn't sure why he was bothering except Kian Egan had just seen him half naked and he needed to drag back some semblance of control, even if it was just to cover himself up.

Two minutes later he pulled open the door again, feeling much better in long denim shorts and a baggy black t-shirt.

“Can I come in?”

“Er... Nicky's going to be back soon so we can go for breakfast...”

“He's not. I saw him in the gym.” Mark's hand tightened on the door-handle. “He was just signing in for a forty-five minute spin class, so I figured...”

“What, that you'd wait until he was gone before you harrassed me?”

“No. I'm sorry. This was a bad idea.” For the first time Mark realised Kian was the one who was nervous, who was looking anywhere else and blushing pink, chewing his lip. “I... I'm sorry I wasted your time. You've probably got stuff to do. I'll get out of your way.” He began to walk stiffly off, eyes on his feet.

“Stop.” He ran a hand uncertainly through his hair while Kian hovered in the hallway, looking over his shoulder. “How did you know which room, anyway?”

“Nicky's room card thing.” Kian gestured to his own, which was dangling on a lanyard round his neck. “Left it with his gym bag and I just saw it, and... Sorry. It sounds like I'm stalking you.”

“Are you?”

“I don't even know anymore.” The laugh was soft and bitter. Mark studied him, in his baggy shorts and loose tank. Realised, for the first time, that he didn't feel scared. Not of Kian.

“Come in,” he decided.

  
  


*

  
  


It was strange, having Kian in his room. Sitting on his bed. Looking at the mess from Mark's suitcase where he'd flung everything out in a hurry looking for something to cover himself.

“You got a balcony.”

“Yeah. Nicky organised it.” Kian was peering at it curiously. “You don't?”

“We don't even have a window,” Kian chuckled. “There was a last minute sale on inside cabins, so we just booked two of them. It's starting to smell, I know that much, three lads stuffed in a room with bunk beds and no windows.”

“Did you get top bunk at least?”

“Got the single near the bathroom.”

“Lucky you.” Mark leaned against the television cabinet, just for somewhere to put himself. Kian was still looking around the room. “Did you want to go out on it?”

“Yeah. Okay.” He stood. “You're not going to push me off, are you?”

“Haven't decided yet.” The expression they exchanged was almost a shared smile. “No. I'm not.” He gestured, let Kian step out first, the curtains flapping as they passed through. Kian leaned on the railing. Breathed in a deep lungful of salt air.

“This is really nice,” Kian murmured. “You're lucky.” Mark shrugged, not really inclined to reply when he wasn't sure of the answer himself. “I wanted to apologise. About the other night.” The words came out too fast, like he'd practiced and didn't want to mess them up. “You were right. I was shitty to you at school and it wasn't your fault. Maybe I just wanted to feel better so I took it out on you.”

“Oh.” That was unexpected. “Right.”

“The pathetic thing is I don't have friends. Not really. I mean, we get on okay but I don't... have someone. Like that. I mean, yeah, the guys don't mind having me around but I know they wouldn't have invited me if Gillian hadn't suggested it.”

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“Nothing.” Kian looked down at the waves lapping the black steel a hundred feet below. “I just... I wanted to say you were right, and I'm sorry. That's all. I can go now.” He pushed away from the railing, turned back towards the door, and then stopped, biting his lip. “I wish I'd been your friend at school. Maybe I was jealous.”

The laugh felt like it had been punched out of his chest.

“Of me?”

“Yeah. Of you.” Kian shifted. “Maybe I'm still jealous, a bit. You went through everything I did to you and you're still happy.” His face crumpled, and before Mark could respond Kian had struggled it back to steady again, though his eyes were shining with unshed tears. “So, have a good life, I guess?”

“Yeah.” On impulse he stuck out his hand, saw eyes dart to it. Then Kian smiled, his hand slipping into Mark's. “You too. I hope you figure out... whatever it is.” Kian nodded. “Er...” He leaned forward, and did a thing he'd never expected to do in his life.

He pulled Kian Egan into a hug.

It was a surreal feeling. Kian's arms around him, pulling him in tight. A manly, tense sort of hug, like the kind his dad gave old mates at the pub. When he pulled back Kian was looking up, expression shy.

Mark stared back. Realised the grip had softened, that Kian's hand was on his shoulder. That his own was on Kian's waist.

The kiss was unexpected, but not entirely unwanted. It felt like being enveloped, lips pressing gently then melting into his, both of them tilting at the same time as he bent down, Kian's hand slipping up to the back of his neck to guide it. Breaths, quick and hard against his chest, gulping him in.

It broke slowly. Mark opened his eyes to find Kian's still closed, though as he watched they fluttered open, dazed blue consolidating itself into horror while Mark tried to get his bearings on the little balcony.

“Oh fuck.” Kian stepped back, covering his mouth. “Fuck. Sorry.” He was red.

He barged back through the balcony doors, leaving Mark stood with a hand on his own mouth, stuck with surprise.

He rallied just before Kian made it to the door, caught up with him and reached for a tensed arm which shook him off. He grabbed Kian again, turned him.

“I'm sorry,” Kian sobbed. There were tears streaming down his cheeks. “I'm sorry. Please don't tell anyone. I can't...” He sank down the door, hands over his face. “Fuck. Fuck.” Sinking down in front of him was made easier by Mark's knees finally giving out. “Don't look at me,” Kian snarled. “Just...”

“Kian...” He wrapped his hands around two trembling fists and pried them away. Kian's eyes were red, spilling tears. He looked panicked. Terrified. “It's alright. I'm not going to tell anyone.” He got a disbelieving glare in response. “Um.” A bubble of laughter spilled out, which really didn't help things. “Hey, I mean, it was pretty good kiss,” he reasoned. Kian didn't seem to find that funny either.

“I didn't mean to,” Kian breathed. Mark shrugged. “It just...” He gulped a laugh. “I forgot.”

“What?”

“How much I fancied you,” Kian trembled. It sounded almost hysterical, so lost for a moment Mark didn't register the words. “Then I saw you again and it just...”

“You... fancied me?” That couldn't be right. “You hated me.”

“Yeah. I did.” He was taking deep breaths, looked barely under control. Tilted his head back against the door, closing his eyes while Mark waited for any of this to make sense. “I hated everyone. Myself, mostly.” His bottom lip wobbled, then stilled. “Do you know how hard it is, watching you with Nicky? You were this quiet, stupid kid and now you're singing fuck-me songs at your boyfriend in public and everyone thinks you're adorable and I don't...” He sobbed, hands clenching in Mark's.

“Believe me, it's not what you think,” Mark murmured. Kian's eyes opened towards the ceiling. “Nicky and I aren't...” He sighed. “I don't know.” He forced himself up, helped Kian to his feet as well. “Can I get you a glass of water or anything? Or like... a coffee? I can order a coffee?”

“No. Thanks.” Kian swallowed, wiping his eyes angrily. He still looked red, but he had himself back under control. Stupid, but Mark found himself feeling a pang of something almost like pity. Recognition, maybe, for the thing that had eaten away at him too. Maybe he hadn't been cruel like Kian, but he'd hidden away, closed himself off. Felt, for years, like there was something fundamentally broken in him that he couldn't fix.

“You want another hug?” Kian seemed to struggle for a second, then he nodded, leaning in. Mark scooped him up, felt hands clench on his back. He felt solid, did Kian. Warm. Mark stroked a hand down his back, felt a chin rest on his shoulder.

“Thanks,” Kian muttered. Looking down was apparently a terrible idea, because when bloodshot blue eyes looked back he felt something he hadn't meant to. Something sharp and drawing that was less about attraction and more about the scars in both of them that hadn't healed.

The kiss was soft. Clinging. A moment of soft, settling acceptance.

Then it changed.

Hard. Growling. A biting, grinding snog that caught Kian as much by surprise as it did Mark, judging by the gasp that jolted through both of them. Hands on his arse and he didn't know when he'd decided to slam Kian against the wall but his breath was knocked into Mark's mouth, neither of them stopping when a coffee cup was knocked off the side-table and onto the floor to roll along the carpet, Mark's hand mashed behind Kian's head and the other reaching down, both of them fumbling to just get _something_ open.

The buttons came open on Mark's shorts. Kian's shirt was wrestled off, tossed somewhere that might matter later when Mark wasn't yanking the drawstring of Kian's shorts so hard it came free and went snapping out of the holes to wrap stupidly around Mark's wrist, looping under it's own inertia.

By the time he untangled it Kian was tackling him to the mattress.

A squeak of springs announced their landing. His shirt came off while he wriggled out of his shorts and then Jesus fuck there was hardness against him, grinding in a clumsy, humping roll.

They rolled. Mark on top. He looked down. Kian, staring back up at him, breathing hard, questions in his eyes and an almost coquettish look, like he was waiting for Mark to do something.

“I... haven't. Erm.”

Mark abruptly realised he was meant to be the one with the experience.

It was an absurd stroke of understanding.

“What... what do you like?” he found himself asking, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

“I don't mind,” Kian said quickly.

“Oh. Right. Yeah.” Mark looked down. They had the equipment sorted, at least. And here he was. Naked. On top of Kian fucking Egan, who was looking at him like he had any answers at all. He glanced at the clock. Only half an hour or so since Nicky had gone. He'd be in the spin-class still, if what Kian had said was correct. He skimmed his hand down a long side, felt enough of a shiver to make him think it was a good start.

“Please...” Kian breathed. Mark did it again, lowering his mouth to suck alone a sharp collarbone. Kian seemed to enjoy it, was moaning softly, tangling fingers in his hair, and maybe this was the answer. Getting off with someone who wasn't Nicky, who he wouldn't have to see once they got off this stupid ship. Who had started this whole ridiculous mess. Because at least this was better than indulging thoughts of what he was coming to realise he really wanted.

Maybe, in a sick way, he and Kian deserved each other.

He made it to Kian's nipple. Dropped his hand down and heard a soft cry when he wrapped it around a leaking cock that was pressing into his belly with every heave.

“Oh...” Kian's head tipped back, his eyes rolling in the same direction. “God... uh...” Strong legs clung to his sides while he found a rhythm, one he knew he liked himself; going slow, squeezing root to tip then speeding it up into a rolling knead that dragged Kian sideways, his thumb swiping under the head, over it, back down again while Kian fucked into his grip.

“That's it,” he muttered. Kian was trembling, looked almost lost while Mark brought him to the edge.

“I need...” He jolted suddenly, toes clawing at Mark's back. “I...” Cried out, both arms grasping the pillow behind his head. Mark lurched up. Kissed him hard and felt teeth dig into his bottom lip while Kian hiccuped moans against his mouth, hips twisting like they were trying to escape. “Hold me down,” Kian croaked. Mark blinked in surprise. “Do it. Slap me, if you want. Choke me. I don't care. Just...”

“Are you su-”

“Please,” Kian interrupted. Mark didn't need to be told again. He sat up. Grabbed both wrists then slammed them down on the mattress, either side of the pillow. Kissed Kian and felt it change. The directionlessness melt away and a guilty throb of power begin to trickle in his bloodstream when Kian struggled against it, his cock leaping against his own belly.

“You like that?” he snarled against Kian's mouth. “How's it feel, huh? Being held down? Like I could just...” His own cock twitched when he rubbed it against Kian's, the pressure intoxicating but not enough, not with their hands preoccupied. “You want to know how I felt?”

“I'm sorry,” Kian gulped. Mark groaned. Wondered if this was wrong, getting off to this, then decided he didn't care. He let go of one arm, grabbed the other, then wrestled Kian onto his stomach, pinned him to the bed with his weight. Better. Holding both wrists with one hand, the other dropping to stroke himself while Kian writhed and grunted beneath him, helpless.

He came with a shudder and a cry, painting Kian's lower back. A white stain that spilled between the dimples announcing a perfect arse. Bit into a strong shoulder to ride it out and felt Kian tense suddenly, heard an anguished shout barely muffled by the pillow while Kian let go on the sheets.

Maybe he'd expected to feel better. Him, holding down Kian Egan. Who'd treated him like crap for years, had the audacity to show up and ruin Mark's holiday. Who had knocked on his door, finally the vulnerable one for once.

Who wasn't Nicky.

Mark climbed off numbly, clearing his throat. Kian was trembling. There were tears on his cheeks.

“You okay?” he checked, not sure if he wanted the answer. Not sure what he'd answer himself, if asked.

“I'm... yeah.” Kian pushed himself awkwardly to his hands and knees. “Yeah.” He knelt back, looked at the mess. “I'm sorry about your sheets,” he mumbled.

“Oh...” Mark glanced at it. At Kian, softening while he knelt there in Mark's room. “I'll figure something out.” He scratched his hair, wondering what to do now. What the protocol was on kicking someone out.

“Do you have tissues or something?”

“Er... yeah. Maybe.” He opened the drawer on his side. Saw Kian absently do the same on the other, then pause, his face settled in a horrified rictus. “What?” A trembling hand reached in. Pulled out a small, square box. Mark felt his stomach jolt.

“I...” He pried it open. The ring. Gold and studded with diamonds. Mark tried to look surprised. Didn't know if he managed it. “Who's side is this?”

“Nicky's,” Mark admitted. Kian shut the box with a snap, shoved it away hurriedly. The slam of the drawer was too loud. “Erm...”

“Fuck.” Kian covered both ears, fingertips digging into his hair. He looked panicked. “Fuck. Fuck.” His eyes filled with tears.

“Kian...”

“We shouldn't have...” Kian reached for his clothes, began to struggle into them, though the drawstring was knackered and he had to put a hand on his hip to keep the shorts up. Mark didn't know what to say. The sensible thing would be to tell the truth. That it didn't matter. That it wasn't for him. He didn't know how to. How to explain that they'd invented a charade because Mark had felt scared and vulnerable, because Nicky was a good friend who went off half-cocked. How to tell Kian that he'd spent a decade utterly broken, especially with the scent of the angry, rushed thing they'd done wafting over the bed.

Kian decided for him.

“I won't tell Nicky.”

“Okay. Cheers.” There was a bite-mark on Kian's shoulder. He kept touching it fitfully, running his fingers over the purpling ring. “Bye, so.”

Kian took a deep breath, seemed to collect himself. “Yeah.” He pushed open Mark's door, and for a moment he looked like he was about to say something, the words right there on his lips.

He left in silence, the shut of the door his goodbye.

  
  


 


	9. Chapter 9

“They made the bed early.”

“Oh...” Mark peered over his shoulder at the tightly made bed he could see through the balcony doors. “I erm... I asked them to do it. Spilled coffee on the sheets.” The weather hadn't lifted yet. The storm may have ended, but there was a heaviness to the clouds that suggested more was on it's way.

“Clumsy twat.” Nicky pulled the toothbrush from his mouth and leaned over to spit off the side. Mark didn't know why he'd wandered out while halfway through brushing his teeth, but that was Nicky's business. “Whoops. Think I hit someone's balcony.”

“Can't you finish that over the sink?”

“Suppose so.” He wandered off again. He'd seemed thoughtful since he'd arrived back from the gym, mentioned something about managing to arrive just as a spin class had been starting but not much else. Though there'd been a couple of complaints about how his legs were going to hurt the next day.

Mark had listened. Nodded politely. He didn't know how to say much back, not without blurting out that he'd managed to hate-fuck a lad from highschool who obviously had way more issues than he was letting on.

Maybe he'd thought it would help, in a way. Get out all the emotion and anger, start him off fresh. Clear out the thing with Nicky by getting off for once so he didn't have to feel like a panting dog. A cure for all his ills. For all the stupid broken things rattling around inside him.

He didn't like being this person. Didn't want to be. The sort who held people down. Who had felt a twisted, exhilerated vengeance when he'd marked Kian. Who had comforted someone else and lied all in the same breath, as though he was any better.

If Mark had felt bad about the neglected handshake, this really wasn't an improvement.

His thoughts were interrupted by Nicky leaning out onto the balcony.

“Right, so there's a Foxtrot class this afternoon, seeing as you don't want to Samba.”

“Nicky...” He didn't want to. Really didn't want to. “It's not my thing. I'm not...” He looked down at his feet, sure that they were both left ones. “I'm a disaster.” Nicky's face was falling fast.

“Oh. Okay.” Disappointed. “No. That's fine. Just thought...” Nicky shrugged. “I mean, it's only for an hour, and it's free, and I thought... y'know.” Mark felt his stomach sink. “Don't worry about it.”

“Nicky...” His friend sulked back through the balcony doors. “Nicky, come on.” There was no reply, just the sound of the bathroom door slamming. Jesus, he didn't need this as well. “Nicky.” He climbed to his feet, headed inside. He'd been glad they had the balcony room after that morning, the salty breeze sweeping out the obvious smell of sex he'd sat in for ten minutes before beginning to strip the sheets. “Nicky?” His knuckles made a hollow rap on the door. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing. Go away.”

“Nicky...” He almost laughed. Felt like he was stood outside a teenager's room, waiting for them to start shouting about how nobody understood their feelings. “Fine, I'll go,” he sighed. There was no reply. “I'll even be the girl, if you like. You'll be using it more than me after this, so you might as well do the relevant bit. Nicky.” The room on the other side of the door was still and silent. “Nico, what's wrong? Open up, open up, open up, open up, open-” He stepped back at the scrape of the lock turning. Nicky answered the door with a face like a funeral. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He wasn't crying, but it was definitely threatening. “It's not about the dancing.”

“Oh.” He reached out a hand, let Nicky settle into a hug. “What's it about?”

“Nothing. My head's just...” He breathed out carefully, sinking against Mark's chest. “It's been a really long week.”

“Tell me about it.” When Nicky looked up there was a tentative smile on his face. “Well, four days left. They'll be over before you know it and we'll be back to our stupid lives.” Nicky snorted.

“That's what I'm worried about,” he muttered. He buried his face in Mark's shoulder again. Apparently they were going to be here for a bit, judging by the way Nicky was slowly relaxing into him, so Mark went with it, making careful strokes up and down his back, trying not to think too much about the grateful sigh that eased out of his friend's chest, the one that sounded almost like a moan. Or about the fact that this wasn't a thing straight friends did, really. Probably because there was an entirely good chance one of them might feel something inappropriate.

“Love you,” Mark breathed. Felt a flush of panic when he realised it was maybe true and fuck, this was a fuck of a day.

“Love you too.” There were arms tight around his shoulders. When he looked down Nicky's eyes were closed. “Don't let go yet.” Mark nodded and closed his own eyes, trying not to notice how good Nicky's hair smelled. “Thanks for putting up with me the last week. I... I know it's been a bit of laugh but it's actually been really nice being your boyfriend.” He snorted a laugh while Mark smiled helplessly.

“Well, you can use it as practice for your next girlfriend.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” He fell silent after that, and not long after eased backwards, extricating himself from Mark's grasp. “So there's a pub quiz in about an hour if you're interested?”

That sounded like a much better idea than staying in the room.

Mark went to find his shoes.

  
  


*

  
  


In cases like these it was generally a better idea to just put Nicky in charge.

It was one of the first things he'd learned about Nicky. Mark, of course, had never been a wilting flower, or the sort of person to let other people do everything for him. He might have been generally easygoing, but he'd always been self-sufficient, liked to get on with quietly doing things his own way rather than bother anybody else.

Nicky was not that relaxed about it.

“Do you want to just fill it in yourself?” Mark suggested. Nicky was glaring, and there was a point where having him tug on Mark's sleeve and hiss the answers in his ear while looking suspiciously at all the other teams just wasn't a viable option. Never mind that Mark knew more of the answers than him, nor that his hand-writing was probably more legible.

This was a pub quiz. This was life or death.

The paper was snatched, the pencil too. Then Nicky was bent over, shielding the answers he was scribbling down as though anybody cared to cheat.

Mark took a sip of his beer. Two more days at sea, then their last stop at Liverpool before the final stretch back to Dublin.

“That's Noel, not Liam,” he commented helpfully. Nicky pursed his lips and began to scribble it down. The proper questions hadn't even started yet. This was just the warm-up round, identifying musicians from black and white pictures badly photocopied out of a magazine. “Two Ls.”

“Cheers.” More groups were trickling in. “Who's that?”

“Er...” Mark leaned over to peer at the image. It was filling up in here now. A few groups of older folks, some families. He stiffened when he heard a familiar voice and looked up to see Shane and Michael push through the door. Shane waved. Mark waved back, not sure what else to do. Nicky looked up.

“Join your team?” Shane called. Nicky was holding the paper defensively, as though someone might want to do the writing instead. They were already heading over though and it seemed rude to tell them to fuck off, especially when neither of them had done anything wrong.

Then it was too late because they were pulling up extra chairs. Mark scooted round next to Nicky to give them space.

“Watch out, he's competitive.” Nicky glared at him. “Don't try to take his pencil away.” Shane laughed and picked up one of the empty answer sheets.

“Team name?” They all shrugged. “Sligo Shtyle?”

“Sounds like we're naming a boyband,” Nicky laughed. “And we're not calling it after Sligo. Dublin, maybe.”

“West pride, mate.” Shane winked. “Should start a boyband. Especially after that karaoke business the other night. Some good singers in there.” Nicky looked pleased at that one.

“Shame Take That's already taken,” Mark joked. “It has to be something really naff. Like Boyzone or BoyzIIMen. Extra points if we can get a number in there.”

“Four As One,” Nicky chimed in. They all laughed.

“Six,” Michael said. Nicky looked at him curiously. “Kian and Graham stopped to get drinks. They'll be up in a minute.” Mark felt his stomach sink.

“Six As One it is.” Shane scribbled it down. “Could have been Seven, but Derrick's been sneaking off with that lass he met. Think he was taking advantage of having us out of the room.”

“As long as we don't call it Skrod,” Mark joked. Nicky pulled a face. “Kian's band.”

“They sound dreadful.” Nicky reached for his beer. “Got nine out of ten. Anyone know who this is?” He turned the paper around for them to lean over. It was a familiar enough face, but he couldn't quite place it.

“James Hetfield.” Mark looked up. Kian was stood beside the table, a beer in his hand. He didn't look at Mark. “From Metallica. H-E-T...” He began to spell it out while Nicky studiously wrote it down.

“Nice one.” He folded the sheet in half. Kian was pulling a chair over like he didn't really want to but couldn't think of a reason to run away. Nicky put a possessive hand on Mark's thigh for a moment and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Right,” he announced. “Who's ready to win?”

  
  


*

  
  


If there was one nice thing he could say about Kian, it was that he was good at keeping a poker face. Over the next hour, between questions and drinks and friendly banter between the lads at his table, Mark almost convinced himself it hadn't happened. That he'd imagined having sex with Kian less than three hours before, coming all over a back that was covered by a black t-shirt now, and different shorts on to replace the ones Mark had accidentally put out of action.

Kian didn't talk much. Interjected when he knew an answer but otherwise sat back, casually watching Nicky and Shane argue over where the 1964 Olympics had been held.

Mark didn't think he was holding it together quite so well. It was after a laugh at one of Kian's jokes that sounded far too loud that he decided it was probably for the best to shut up. Nicky kept giving him odd looks.

They came third.

“Ah, fuck it.” Nicky snapped the pencil in half and threw it at the table. Shane was laughing. “Somebody get me a drink.”

“It's alright,” Shane offered, while the winners went up to collect their princely reward of a hundred dollar voucher for the duty free shop. “Third prize. That's pretty good.” Nicky pouted. The two of them were getting along quite well, actually, had already made tentative plans to meet at the running track the next morning instead of going to the gym. Mark wondered how long it would take Nicky to turn it into a race.

“Here you go, lads. Good effort.” The host handed them an envelope. “Figure out who's going to use that, if you like.”

“Thanks.” Mark took it before Nicky could start arguing over half-points for almost-answers. “Who wants these, then?” Two reservations to the expensive onboard restaurant, the one you had to pay for.

“You two have them,” Graham suggested. “Romantic dinner and all that. It's not like I'm taking Shane.” Shane laughed and pretended to lean in to kiss him on the cheek, got batted away for his troubles.

“We're... actually going tomorrow night,” Nicky said. Mark looked over, confused, wondering if Nicky had told him while he'd been drunk and he hadn't remembered. “Sorry. It was supposed to be a surprise. Anniversary. I booked it before we came on.”

“Oh. Whoops.” Shane looked at the tickets. “Um. Well, that's fine. Sure we can use them. How long?”

“Two years.” Nicky squeezed Mark's hand. “Good two years.”

“It has been, yeah.” He found himself smiling, even if the anniversary thing wasn't technically about him. It had been a good two years. “Love you Nico.”

“Love you too.” Nicky leaned in. The kiss was careful. Not like the last few, quick and like Nicky was trying to barrel into it to make a point. This was sweet, almost chaste. Eyes open and noses rubbing slightly together while Nicky's mouth parted in an impish pout.

It felt almost real.

Mark pulled back slightly, heart hammering. No. Reading into things was not going to help the situation. Still their foreheads were pressed together and a hand was capturing his, scooping it up, a thumb running soothingly along the pads of his fingers. He felt himself shiver.

Christ, Nicky was beautiful.

“Sorry we lost,” Mark murmured. Nicky shrugged.

“S'alright.” He pecked Mark's mouth again. “I already won.” Shane made an immature 'oooh' from across the table. The others laughed. Nicky snorted and pulled back, leaving Mark sat red-faced and glad the table was high enough to hide his lap.

“I'm... not feeling well,” Kian said softly. They all looked over and yeah, he did look a bit pale. Mark felt a pang of something. Pity, maybe. Guilt, more likely. “Might go get some air. Er...” He walked away stiffly. They all watched him go.

“Sorry,” Shane said. There was an apologetic blush rising to his cheeks. “He's always been a bit...” He trailed off, gave Mark a look like he knew he'd fill in the blanks himself. “You know.”

“A homophobic arsehole?” Michael supplied. Shane shrugged. Nicky was looking between them, eyes steel. “I mean, yeah, he's alright in small doses, but Jesus. It's not highschool any more. You don't have to act like being gay's a thing.”

“Yeah. Well.” Shane shifted uncomfortably. “I... didn't tell you this, alright?” They all nodded. “I'm not even supposed to know, but Gillian heard it from her ma and it just sort of...” He bit his lip. “One of his older brothers got... I dunno exactly. Touched up? By someone. I don't know who, I don't know the details, but it's this big family secret. Their dad kicked seven bells out of him when he found out.”

“Good, I hope he got kicked into intensive care,” Nicky said savagely.

“No, not... the guy.” Shane winced. A ripple of disbelief went through the group when they all realised. “Something about how he should have stood up for himself, must have wanted it kind of thing. Their mam pulled him off. I don't know if anything else ever happened, or if he just lost it, but... yeah. Kian's brother showed up at Gill's place black and blue and stayed there for a couple days. She was only about ten I think. She just thought he'd been getting into fights but he stayed in their spare and she said she hardly ever saw him, but she could hear him crying through the wall. Then their mam showed up and took him home and that was the last of it.”

“Shit,” Graham breathed. Mark wanted to cry. Nicky's fists were clenched in his lap. “Shit, mate.” He glanced in the direction Kian had gone. “Should we say something?”

“I sort of brought it up once but he shut it down, said he didn't know what I was talking about.” Shane reached for his drink. It was empty. He put it back down. “Not that it excuses him being a prick, but like... yeah. I kind of feel sorry for him.”

“Is that why you invited him? I thought that was weird.”

“Not... specifically. But like... I mean, he doesn't have many friends, and the ones he does have are all dickheads and Gillian thought it might be good for him to get away. He's been in trouble a bit lately. His mam was talking about trying to get him sectioned at one point because she's worried about him hurting himself.” Michael let out a low whistle.

“What happened with his brother?” Nicky asked softly. He looked pale. Mark wasn't sure how he felt, exactly, except for strange and hollow.

“Dunno exactly. I see him at family picnics and that and he seems fine. Kian was pretty young when it happened, though, so maybe it just hit him harder, or like... gave him wrong ideas or something. I'm not sure.” The door opened again and they all looked up as Kian came back inside, a bit more colour in his cheeks. “Hey, mate. Feeling alright?”

“Yeah. Should have had breakfast before that screwdriver maybe.” He forced a laugh and sat back down. Mark wondered if he could tell they were all trying not to stare at him. Nicky began a valiant attempt at putting the broken pencil back together. “Might inspect the buffet in a minute if anyone's interested?”

They all agreed that was a good idea. Mark was suprised when Nicky jogged up ahead to keep pace with Kian, clapping him on the back while he said something Mark couldn't hear. Kian laughed and ducked his head shyly, elbowed him in reply. Nicky grinned.

Mark followed them through the doors, stomach a knot.

  
  


*

  
  


This day was apparently going from bad to worse.

“Hand there,” Nicky whispered. Mark shifted. “Don't make that face. You wanted to be the girl.”

“I just didn't want to lead,” Mark whispered back. The instructor was walking around slowly, making sure their box-step was up to par. It had taken Mark ten minutes to get this far. He looked down to make sure he wasn't stepping on anything, which didn't help.

The instructor had asked where their partners were, then covered up her surprise well when it had become clear what was going on. She'd obviously expected Mark to lead, as the taller one, but Mark had been quick to say no, it was probably better if Nicky did.

He tried to do it without watching his feet. That seemed to go a bit better.

“You're getting it. What are you so scared of?”

“Dunno. Making a tit of myself?”

“Don't do that, then.” It was spectacularly unhelpful advice. “You're too stiff. Loosen up. You look like you're trying to hold an egg in your arsehole.”

“Thanks.” He pulled a face while Nicky snorted in his ear, almost tripped when his friend stopped moving all of a sudden. “What are you doing?” Hands settled on his hips. This wasn't what they were supposed to be working on.

“Move this.” Nicky did what could almost be described as a shimmy. Mark raised his eyebrow. And then, before Mark could register it, he was stepping in, bringing them closer than Mark had expected. Thighs settled against his, a flat stomach against his own, which he nervously tried to suck in. His hand was caught, brought up, and Nicky's landed on his waist, squeezing. “Deep breath.”

“Er...” Mark breathed in, hand landing awkwardly on Nicky's shoulder.

“Now let it out with me. Ready?” Mark nodded while Nicky sucked in as well, felt all of him move, muscle and strength beneath a soft cotton tee and tracksuit bottoms. “Out.” He let it go. Felt Nicky sink against him. “Better.” A hip nudged his teasingly. “Stay with me. One...” Mark stepped back. “Two... three four.” Nicky nodded approvingly when they moved to the side with Mark barely tripping. “One... two... three four. There we are. Keep going.” They both looked up as the instructor passed, gave them a thumbs up and moved back to the front of the class for the next bit.

“Sorry,” he whispered, when he stepped on Nicky's foot a few minutes later, the box-step behind them and the new footwork confusing him.

“S'alright.” Nicky's voice was slightly strained. “You want to try the dip?”

“Er... yeah. Okay.” He looked down. Back, back, side... He almost yelped when Nicky tilted him, the world sideways for a second until he was gathered back in. “Oh.” Nicky was laughing. “Romantic.” Their hips were back together again. He could feel pressure, hoped Nicky wouldn't notice. “This isn't so bad.”

“Told you. Wanna twirl?”

“Yeah.” Nicky spun him carefully out, moving slow so he wouldn't trip over himself. Their grip turned as an arm went over his head and then he was back in, a little disoriented but fine. He put his hand on Nicky's shoulder to steady himself. “Maybe we should stop,” he suggested. “You know. The whole boyfriend thing.” Nicky raised an eyebrow. “Kian's not a bad guy.”

“He still treated you like crap in school. I mean, I feel sorry for him, but that doesn't excuse what he did to you.”

“No. I know. It... just doesn't feel fun any more.” Nicky nodded. “He um... he came to the room this morning,” Mark admitted. “He apologised, sort of. For what happened.”

“You didn't tell me.”

“No. I know.” Nicky was studying him, and they were back to an easy box-step, keeping a rhythm they could both do without thinking too much. “It was weird. I just...” He didn't want to tell Nicky the rest. Couldn't do it. Wasn't sure if he was ashamed of himself more now he knew all the details or for before, when he'd done that with someone he could barely look at without feeling seething anger. “Maybe it's better if I let the whole thing go. I'm not scared any more. I don't even think I'm angry, really.”

“No?”

“No.” He wasn't. “Thanks, I guess. Maybe it was for the wrong reasons, but in a way being a couple made it feel less scary. It wasn't something I was doing on my own.”

“Yeah. I know what you mean.” Nicky didn't elaborate, but his smile was nervous. “Mark...” He leaned in, and Mark stiffened into the kiss, felt Nicky collide with him when his feet stopped. Arms looped around his shoulders and before he knew it he was kissing back, unable to help the moan when a tongue caressed his.

They drew back carefully. Nicky was red. Mark probably was too.

“Oh.” Mark touched his mouth. “Um.”

“Sorry.” Nicky covered his own. “Fuck. Sorry.” The rest of the class kept moving around them, too distracted with their own steps. “Ehm.”

“What... was that for?”

“I don't...” Tears filled Nicky's eyes. “Sorry.”

Then he was gone, head down as he stalked out of the room.

 


	10. Chapter 10

There didn't seem much point looking for Nicky.

The ship was a maze, and Nicky had a headstart. By the time Mark collected himself and followed Nicky out of the dance class he was already gone and there was no clue to which direction he'd chosen.

It was easier to go back to the room. It felt strange without Nicky there. Empty and isolated and full of incomplete, directionless feelings he didn't know how to reconcile, especially not with the taste of Nicky's mouth still lingering on his tongue.

So he waited. Sat on the made bed and stared at the same fucking Monty Python episode he'd already seen three times, cross-legged and heart racing and fighting the restless impulse to pace.

It was two hours later when the door creaked open and Nicky stepped in. Paused. The stare went on for ever, both of them locked in an uncertain moment, Nicky's hand still on the door-handle.

“Hey.” The door closed with a soft thunk.

“Hey.” Didn't know exactly what any of this was about, but Nicky looked fragile and pale, eyes a lingering red. “Where you been?”

“Dunno. Walking.” Tangled hair was swept stiffly back by a hand that trembled slightly. “It's windy. Thought I'd come get a jacket or something.” Four halting steps took him past Mark and over to his suitcase. He crouched down, unzipped it, then froze there, staring into the messily stored clothes. “Ehm.”

His voice cracked. Mark leaned over to put a hand on his shoulder, not sure what else to do, and felt it shake right before Nicky covered his face with both hands, stuck in a squat in front of the messy suitcase.

“Come here,” he urged. Nicky shook his head.

“I can't,” he croaked. “Just...” He inhaled wetly. “Fuck, I'm sorry.”

“For what?” Mark climbed off the bed to crouch beside him on the carpet. Probably looked weird, the two of them praying into Nicky's luggage. “Nicky.” He gathered Nicky in, felt him flinch, then relent when Mark pulled him almost into his lap, both of them sinking sideways to lean against the bed, Nicky's head on his shoulder and knees resting on Mark's thighs, curled on the carpet.

“Today is fucked,” Nicky laughed brokenly. Mark nodded. It really was. “I checked my email this morning, after the gym.”

“Oh.” Mark nodded. “Everything alright?”

“Yes. I mean... no. Maybe. It's...” He breathed out slowly. “Georgina wants to get back together.” His eyes darted towards the drawer where the engagement ring still sat. “She said maybe she overreacted, but she thinks we were going too fast. That we could start again a bit slower until we finish school, then see what happens.”

“That's... that's good then?” Mark wasn't sure. The pang of jealousy wasn't ideal or relevant, so he pushed it down. Nicky was silent, leaned against his shoulder. “Is that not good?”

“I don't know,” Nicky breathed. “A week ago it was all I wanted and now I don't...” His hands twisted in his lap. “I kept trying to make it better in my head. Think of all the reasons we shouldn't be together, and now all I can think is that maybe you were right. She's not the one. And then I think...” He laughed bitterly, wiping his face. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“What do you think?”

“That... I've really liked being your boyfriend,” Nicky admitted. Mark licked his lips nervously. “That maybe when I think about all the things I want in someone... it isn't her I think about.”

“Oh.” Nicky wasn't looking at him, which was probably for the best because Mark wasn't at all sure what his own expression was, though panic was probably in there. “You're not gay.”

“I... yeah. I know.” His hands were still twisting. Mark put one of his own over them, felt them gather it up and squeeze. “Or maybe I don't know. Not any more. It was just a game, and then I started to feel... I dunno, like I was looking forward to pretending with you, because then I might get to kiss you.” He turned Mark's hand over, cradled it, thumb beginning to make sweet strokes down Mark's palm. “Then when you said you wanted to stop I think I panicked and I kissed you anyway and now I feel like I've fucked up because I don't want to stop being your friend.” He blinked away tears. “I love you too much to be in love with you. Does that make any sense?”

“Yeah. It does.” More than he wanted it to. “It's okay.” He wasn't sure it was. A crush was something else, something he could struggle away silently without ever having to face the consequences. This felt like something too easy to fuck up. “I was going to kiss you in the aquarium.”

“I was going to kiss you,” Nicky admitted. “If I'm being honest maybe I felt something before. Like, am I supposed to be that excited every time my friend calls to say hi? That's not normal.”

“I used to get nervous when I'd call you,” Mark chuckled. “I'd spend all day figuring out an excuse so it didn't sound like I was just calling for no reason.”

“I like it when you call me for no reason.” Nicky looked up, finally, a smile trembling at the edges of his mouth. “It's my favourite thing.” He breathed out slowly. “Maybe I never asked if you were gay because it was easier not to find out.” The grip on Mark's hand loosened. “I'm really confused and really scared and I don't want you to hate me.”

“Welcome to my world,” Mark teased awkwardly. Nicky snorted. “What do you want to do?”

“I don't know. Put things back the way they were.” Apparently they were both leaning in. “Shag your brains out. Call you every day so I don't have to miss you.” Nicky's mouth was too close. “What do you want?”

“I want to kiss you,” Mark mumbled. Nicky's eyes were stormy blue, inviting. “I want... more, maybe.” Nicky's hand rested on his cheek and he nuzzled in, felt a shiver when their foreheads pressed together. “I keep stopping myself from...” He closed his eyes, realised the rest of him had already picked up the thought. Nicky's breath was quick against his mouth, stilled in a soft moan when they connected, salty with tears, Nicky's hand sliding into his hair.

They both jumped at a knock on the door. Froze.

“Housekeeping?”

“Busy!” Nicky called hoarsely back. They both heard the cart trundle further down the hall. Mark giggled stupidly, got an indignant slap on the knee for his troubles. “Prick.”

“Ginger.” Nicky shoved him, laughing. “What happens now?”

“Dunno.” Blue eyes studied him. “I know it's probably weird, but I'd honestly really like a hug.” Mark obliged. Felt the tension flood out of him when Nicky settled into his embrace, arms around his waist while Mark held him in. He could feel Nicky's heart beating, as quick as his own. The smell of Nicky's hair was perfect, when he bent to kiss it, and he felt a contented wriggle that made his heart swell. “Mm.”

“Mm,” Mark agreed. “Love you, Nico.”

“Love you too,” Nicky sighed. “This has been a fuck of a day.”

Mark snorted and held him tighter.

  
  


*

  
  


The sky was setting a startling pink as they lay there on the bed that evening, Nicky on his back and Mark nestled to his chest, both of them watching out the open door. Not late, maybe, but he was tired, his eyes drifting shut to the thump of Nicky's heart beneath his ear, their hands clasped just beneath his ribs.

“You going to sleep?” Nicky whispered. Mark yawned.

“Might be.” He forced his eyes open, just enough to see Nicky's jaw, the beginnings of stubble and the fond smile twitching at his mouth. “Comfortable.”

“Yeah.” Fingers sifted carefully through his hair, drawing out warm shivers that made him moan without meaning to, a breathy sigh while he closed his eyes again, nuzzling into Nicky's shirt. “Love you.”

“Mm.” He yawned again. “Love you too.” It felt right to say it. More right than he'd ever expected. He knew Nicky would already be thinking ahead. Probably past shared flat and already up to a house and a dog, because that was what Nicky did, but for now Mark was perfectly happy here, while fingers stroked his hair. “Sorry we didn't get to finish dancing.”

“I got to dip you at least.” Mark wrinkled his nose. “Maybe we're not compatible on everything.”

“Maybe not.” He was drifting, knew he was. Tilted his head up when coaxing lips found his, parting lazily. Tasted perfect. A breathy fit that bound them together. Nicky's tongue darted at his. He met it, gulping a sleepy moan when Nicky's hand left his to settle on his side, pulling him in tighter.

His own hand found it's way to a flat stomach, warm skin when he let it drift up under Nicky's shirt. Felt muscles contract and the soft, keening response on his tongue as the kiss deepened, his knee hitching up to trap Nicky's legs.

“Want you,” Nicky whispered. Mark shifted up, moaning at the pressure of Nicky's side when he did. Hard. Wasn't sure if Nicky was and didn't want to take liberties in finding out. “Do you want to?”

“I...” He pulled away, not sure. Not in this room, where twelve hours before he'd done something phenomenally stupid. “It's new. I'm not...”

“It's fine,” Nicky said quickly. He was flushed though, and oh Mark wished he hadn't opened his eyes because that was the second time he'd seen Nicky's erection that week. It was under his palm a moment later, his hand brushing an experimental touch over tight jeans. The whimper that spilled out from under Nicky's bitten lip was heaven. “God, Mark.” Nicky sucked a desperate kiss at his ear when Mark moved his hand away.

“Sorry.” Hot and wet, sucking down his jaw to his neck. Felt too good while Nicky gasped softly into his skin. “I want you. I just...”

“It's fine.” Nicky drew back, flushed. His eyes were heavy though, half-lidded with heat. Mark could smell sweat, wasn't sure if it was Nicky or both of them. Nicky wiped a hand across his mouth. “That's new.”

“What?”

“Stubble. It's all scratchy.” He popped his lips experimentally. “Weird.” That done, he took Mark's hand again, eyes softening. “Whenever you want. I wanna make your first time really special.” Mark opened his mouth, wanting to correct him, then closed it again. No. That didn't get to count. Not that weird, violent, intense thing that barely counted as sex. He wasn't letting it count.

Instead he rested his head on Nicky's chest, eyes creeping shut as fingers soothed carefully through his hair.

  
  


*

  
  


When he woke it was to the toilet flushing and Nicky staggering back into the room, backlit in the bathroom light.

The rest of the room was cast in darkness, save the moon and the red digital numbers on the alarm clock that pegged the time as just after ten. Nicky was rubbing his eyes blearily, though when Mark propped himself up on his elbows and managed a disoriented smile he got one back, one that was slightly uncertain.

“You hungry?”

“Erm...” Mark blinked in the sudden brightness of the lamp Nicky switched on. “Not sure yet. Half asleep.” He yawned. Closed his eyes again and flopped back down, snorting when Nicky climbed on top of him. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He pursed blindly into the kiss that brushed his mouth. “Can I just say that was the best sleep I've had in ages?”

“Mm... ditto.” It had been. Not waking up in the night and trying to make sure he wasn't overstepping his area. There was something about being held that felt right. Held by Nicky. Breathing in the smell of him and feeling skin against his. “One more hour, mam.”

“I hope that's not a kink. Calling me mam.”

“I hope not as well.” He opened his eyes, saw Nicky looking down, features oddly skewed in the shadows thrown by the lamp. “You're really okay with this, aren't you?” Nicky tilted his head. “I only said I was gay a week ago and I'm still worried I've made a terrible mistake.”

“Oh, I'm shitting myself,” Nicky chuckled. “I have to go back home and tell mam, sorry, engagement's not happening, but now I'm dating my best friend. Who has a penis.”

“You're going to tell your mam about my penis?” Nicky punched him gently in the shoulder, laughing. “Will she be disappointed, do you think?”

“In your penis?” Mark rolled his eyes. “I think she'll be surprised,” Nicky allowed. “I remember once she thought my sister was a lesbian. She went through this stage wearing flannel and having sleepovers with one of her girlfriends and mam was pretty supportive, kept asking the lass over for dinner. Then it turned out they were both really into this boy who liked Nirvana. Before I left she was asking me if I thought Adam was enjoying Will & Grace a bit too much.”

“I like that show.”

“Everyone likes that show. It's hilarious. Still, if one of us was gay I think she'd be alright with it. Dad too. And they like you”

“My parents like you.” There was a bit of a shift when Nicky leaned forward to snuggle up, trying not to squash each other, but they figured it out quickly. Mark suspected they'd be ordering room service. He was too comfortable to bother with anything else, especially when Nicky sighed happily and kissed his cheek. “My mam keeps asking if you're eating enough.”

“Parents are sorted then. I'll book the chapel.”

“You do have that ring...” Nicky snorted and bit his ear, though it turned into a teasing lick before it ended, a slow kiss after that, breathing downwards. Mark felt his hips lift automatically, saw blue eyes darken when he let out a moaning sigh. Too good, being touched like this, Nicky's shape under his hands when he slid them down sinewy sides to close over narrow hips. The growl in his ear made his eyes shudder closed.

It was as Nicky was popping open the top button on his shirt that he felt hardness against his thigh. His head tipped back. Wet kisses and hot breath skating his throat. Nicky moaned softly, then teeth scraped his collarbone and oh fuck he was...

“We... we should stop,” he managed. Nicky's mouth pulled away with a pop. “Just for tonight. Maybe tomorrow, I just...” He opened his eyes. Nicky was crawling back up, looking worried. “Do you know what you're doing?”

“Not particularly?” Nicky shrugged. “Was just going to try what I usually do with girls and then... you know. Adapt it.” He looked down, biting his lip. “I've been ehm... thinking. About...” Rolling off was probably for the best. Mark sat up when Nicky did, pulling his knees in as best he could to hide his erection. Nicky settled back, cross-legged, which didn't hide much of anything. “You know. Like it's all well and good to say I fancy you but... you know.”

“Cock.”

“Yeah.” Mark supposed it was fair they have this conversation. Maybe it was part of the reason he was holding back. He knew Nicky. His friend went in full force with the brakes off and didn't think about the specifics until they became unavoidable, especially when emotions were in the way. This could be temporary. Heartbreak and proximity making Nicky think he wanted something he maybe wouldn't, once they were back on land. “I'm not interested in being bummed.”

“Oh.” Mark laughed, unable to help it. “Right. Me neither?”

“So how do we do this then? Somebody has to.”

“Do they?” Nicky was going the sort of red he did when he was on the back foot and about to get blustery rather than show his ignorance. “There's other things. Like... blowjobs and stuff.”

“I could give a blowjob,” Nicky said quickly, then crossed his arms defiantly. “I _want_ to.”

“Congratulations.”

“Yeah.” Eyes darted towards his lap. “I actually thought about it a few times. You know. Over the years. I... might have checked you out a few times when you were wearing tracksuit bottoms with nothing underneath.”

“Oh.” Mark wasn't sure if Nicky's matter-of-fact tone was a compliment or an insult. “That was okay?”

“It was... yeah. More than okay.” Nicky brought his knees up to his chest, smiled shyly over them. “Sometimes you look really nice and I can't stop thinking about kissing you,” he murmured. “And then sometimes you look like shit and I still want to kiss you.”

“Do you want to kiss me now?”

“It's all I want to do.” Mark leaned in obligingly, felt a humming moan when they connected, Nicky's hand weaving into his hair and a tongue pushing into his mouth, sloppy and teasing and deep. He groaned. Felt himself react. If want had a taste, this was it. A stupid, hungry, uncoordinated kiss, Nicky making ridiculous noises and Mark feeling so breathless part of him was worried he might embarrass himself and faint.

They drew apart. Nicky's cheeks were pink.

“We should probably go get dinner,” Nicky managed. “Around other people.” His eyes swept the length of Mark in a desperate crawl. “Fuck.”

He just about fell off the bed trying to stand. Mark snorted, got a glare in reply.

“Food?” he suggested.

Nicky nodded. “Food.”

  
  


*

  
  


There wasn't much point going to the buffet, not when the dinner service was mostly closed down for the night, but there was a small bar at the end of their corridor, the same place Mark had discovered early on, though the pyramid of champagne flutes were gone and instead there was a sleepy bartender and the sound of the hot-tubs just up the stairs bubbling and barely drowning out the chatter of people in them.

The bar area was mostly empty. Mark ordered them a couple of sandwiches with chips and they found a table where they could look down at the water, the moon drifting just over Nicky's shoulder.

Maybe the sexual tension had been thick in the room, but this was almost sweet. Nicky kept asking him if he wanted anything, touching his hand and giving him bashful smiles while they sat there chatting, the conversation away from anything serious. It was like a date. Weird, considering they'd basically been doing the same thing for over a week.

“You look really cute tonight,” Nicky said, as they sat there with their champagne and an after-dinner bowl of strawberries, topped with chocolate syrup and a dollop of whipped cream.

“Thanks.” He touched his hair self-consciously. Had just stumbled out of bed, not thinking about it. “You look nice. Also.” A foot kicked his gently under the table.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Dunno.” He peeked at Nicky from under his lashes, not sure now. “I am. Think I'm just...” He glanced around them. “My head's still trying to...” He chewed his lip, trying to think how to word it. “I feel like we're still the same way we always were, and then you say things like that and I don't know if...” He drummed his fingers absently on the table. “Is this what you were like with Georgina?”

“Like what?”

“I don't know.” Nicky's eyes were narrowing slightly. “Are you putting the moves on me?” Nicky burst out laughing, leaning back in his seat. Mark scowled. “I'm serious.”

“The moves?”

“Yeah. You know.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Like... trying to chat me up or whatever.”

“Do I need to?”

“I... no. I don't think so.” Nicky was still giggling to himself. “It's different. Like, I know you say you fancied me before, but you never acted like...” The hole he was digging was beginning to crumble, he knew it. “There's two bits and they don't make sense together, basically.”

“Which bits?”

“Friendship bits and like... relationship bits.” Nicky reached for a strawberry, eyebrow raised. “I don't know. It feels different.” He reached for a strawberry himself. They were perfect, just tart enough, the chocolate dark. “I really don't want to fuck this up.”

“Why would you?”

“I don't want _us_ to fuck this up,” Mark amended. “You just got out of a relationship, and my head's all over the place and... you know. It's weird.” He took a bite of the strawberry while Nicky stared silently back, expression unreadable. “And Kian's here.”

“I thought we didn't care about him any more?”

“We don't. I just...” Nicky must have seen him struggling because a hand reached out to close over his. “I don't want to get confused and we turn this into something and then we get home and suddenly it was a mistake, and what if we can't put our friendship back together after that? And it feels like if we have sex, then there's no going back from that, right? And even now, how are we supposed to be friends again knowing we fancy each other? I mean, we both basically lied to each other about our feelings for three years, and maybe lied to ourselves as well, but it's _not_ the same, and I don't...” He trailed off, flustered and too aware that he'd been rambling.

“You're panicking.”

“Yeah. I know.” He managed a rueful smile, got an indulgent one in reply, one that was sweet and fond and made his stomach flip. “Sorry.” Nicky's other hand closed around his too. He bit his lip, not sure what else to say.

“I love you.” Mark didn't ask in which context. “Do you want to go back to being friends? Because we can.” Nicky didn't look like he wanted to, but he seemed genuine anyway. “Line in the sand.”

“Line in the sand,” Mark breathed. Nicky was watching him expectantly. “I want you,” he admitted softly. “But I don't know if it's worth losing you over.”

“You won't lose me.” There was too much conviction in his voice for Mark to believe it. A scraping chair later and Nicky was beside him, pulling him into a hug. Mark went. Wanted not to breathe him in, to be able to smell hair and skin and cologne. It was intoxicating. He closed his eyes guiltily, shivered at the stroke of a hand up his spine.

“You can't promise that.”

“I know.” Mark let himself drift, eyes closed and the feeling of Nicky invading all his senses. Then he heard a soft chuckle.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just thought...” The stroke stilled on Mark's nape. “I mean, we could always pretend not to be together for the rest of the trip, just to change things up.” Mark snorted a laugh. “Tell everyone we've broken up, ignore each other completely. I'll take a dance class with a girl.”

“Fuck off,” Mark mumbled into his shoulder. “We can't, anyway. We've got that romantic dinner booked.”

“Yeah. We do.” Nicky kissed his cheek. “How about we make it a date? Spend the day apart, then at night we can get ready separately and meet there. See what happens.” That sounded okay. Mark hadn't expected the slight throb of sadness, the automatic question of what the hell he was going to do all day if he didn't spend it with Nicky. Still, they'd spent almost the entire trip in each other's pockets, and he had meant to spend part of his holidays thinking, after all. Trying to get his head in order.

“Okay,” he agreed. “Yeah.” They disentangled themselves. A few more people had come to sit in the area, and he saw a couple of curious looks that he tried to ignore. Nicky seemed oblivious. “Do you want to go back to the room?”

“Was thinking about a dip in a hot-tub, to be honest. You want to come?” Mark wrinkled his nose. Shirtless in front of people was a no. “I'll do it tomorrow, then.” Nicky reached for another strawberry. “What are you going to do all day?”

“I don't know. Sleep?” He felt a foot kick him under the table. “What?”

“Mopey git,” Nicky teased. Mark shrugged. “You know you're gorgeous, right? There's nothing to be embarrassed of.” That was easier said. Mark shifted uncomfortably, felt a flutter when Nicky gave him an appreciative look.

“I'm going to head to bed,” he decided. The strawberries were all gone, anyway. He drained the rest of his flute quickly, felt the bubbles fizz down his throat.

“I'll come too.” Nicky stood. “No hanky panky during the night, though.”

“No.” The hand that slid into his was warm and strong. He squeezed it. “Best behaviour.”

 


	11. Chapter 11

Mark wasn't sure what woke him, precisely.

It wasn't the lack of comfort. Comfort he had in spades, when his eyes opened and he blinked around the dark room. Arms around his waist, soft breath tickling the back of his neck. It was almost disconcerting in a way. Something unfamiliar in being so unflinchingly wrapped in someone else.

He shook his head, trying to cast of the grogginess. Was sure he'd been dreaming, but couldn't remember of what. Closed his eyes.

Realised he had to pee.

He extricated himself carefully, lifting Nicky's arm away, peeling back clenching fingers. One movement at a time until he could slither from his friend's grasp and edge toward the side of the bed, feet finding the carpet as he left a sleepy moan behind and switched on the bathroom light.

He blinked. Hair a mess in the harsh light, eyes barely open, the mirror fairly unkind at three in the morning. He shut the door so he wouldn't wake Nicky, sorted himself out quickly, then bent to wash his hands, squinting blearily at them until he turned the light off again and was left blindly groping his way out of the bathroom.

“Mm,” Nicky muttered, when he slid back into bed, facing Nicky. An arm settled around his waist again.

“Go back to sleep,” Mark whispered. Nicky grumbled and pulled him in tighter, their faces so close Mark could smell his own morning breath. A kiss brushed his mouth anyway, apparently not perturbed, though Nicky's breath wasn't amazing either. Another sleepy kiss, and he was shifting in, too warm and comfortable and sleepy to think much of anything except Nicky felt good against him, that Mark could feel him half-hard through his boxer shorts.

“Tired,” Nicky breathed. Mark made a soft moan that might have been agreement. His hand had found Nicky's arse somehow. Felt Nicky push into the touch then arch forward, starting a slow roll he met without thinking about it, pushing an arm under Nicky's side and collecting him in, a liquid heat beginning to trickle through his bones.

It wasn't difficult to lay there like that, kissing. Was soft, and slow, and heady in a way that felt like a careful dream, in the dark and Nicky all around him, breathing against him, shifting and their legs knotting experimentally, a slow, tangling touch that shifted and wound, his hands roaming. Nicky's roaming back. Sending long tingles up his spine, over his scalp, down again into his groin and thighs and back, something sedate and aroused and distantly excited that wanted all of this. Wanted the soft gasps when his jaw began to ache and he pulled away, Nicky's kisses fluttering down his throat, unperturbed by the erection that was beginning to press out Mark's pyjama bottoms.

“Nicky.” It shuddered out of him, barely a whisper. Nicky's hand was clenching in his hair, making long, shivering tracks down his nape. The other in his lower back, pulling him forward. “Don't stop.”

“Mm.” His eyes weren't open. Wasn't sure if Nicky's were but it didn't matter, lost in darkness and sensation while they slid slowly at each other. “Touch you.”

“Yes.” He blurted out a gasp when fingers trailed at his waistband, thumb a firm touch behind them. Felt his core contract and his stomach tense and then the dip of fingers, going just deep enough to tug gently at hair until he was whimpering into Nicky's mouth, sucking and biting and swallowing the groans when Nicky's hand slid deeper and caressed just above the root, a slow, teasing rub.

He was about to say something. That Nicky didn't have to. That this was the edge of whatever Nicky had decided he was, and it wasn't too late, because Mark didn't know if he could. If he could deal with Nicky realising that no, this wasn't it. Going soft against him, his breathing settling back to normal. To disappointed eyes that wanted to say sorry, obviously they were mistaken.

Instead he held his breath while fingers wrapped around him. While Nicky's mouth sealed against his, hungry.

He whined. Jerked. Felt legs tangle with his and clung back, overwhelmed. Not sure what he'd expected but sure that it hadn't been a sure grip, twisting in the slick of him. Heaving into Nicky's shoulder while soft words gasped against his ear.

“You smell amazing.” Mark gulped, felt his cheeks redden before the blood was taken elsewhere. “Oh Jesus.” Teeth bit at him while he tried to respond, tried to do anything other than cling. “You're so hard”

“Nicky.” It hiccuped out. “Ah-ngg...” He bit his lip. Twisted through a strong arm and felt it hold him while he tried to fight and ride the grip at the same time.

“Shh shh shh.” Nicky breathed in hoarsely against his ear. “Do you like it like that?” He couldn't do anything but shiver out a moan, not sure where Nicky's words had come from but too turned on to care. Not when his best friend was coaxing him through it with a voice that was too sure and unembarrassed by what he was saying. Thumb swiping over the head then pressing to the slit and fuck he was falling _apart_.

Way too fast. Way too fast. Fuck. Fuck. He couldn't...

“I'm going to...”

“Good,” Nicky purred. Mark didn't mean to cry out, muffled it in Nicky's shoulder and felt a heart pound against his. The hand sped up. Tightened. A quick, relieving stroke, pyjamas sweat-stuck to his thighs and back and Nicky's hand _moving_. Cried out again, a burst of intensity that clenched his toes and rippled up, a sharp lightning bolt of pleasure and want and almost-release while he clung, hand on Nicky's arse, the other around his back to stop himself from falling.

“Oh fuck,” he croaked. Eyes opened. Saw midnight blue ones staring back through the darkness, intense and heavy and watching him and. “Oh fu-”

“Fuck,” Nicky agreed breathlessly, while Mark let go.

His bitten cries were muffled by a sloppy kiss.

  
  


*

  
  


Mark couldn't stop giggling.

It felt stupid. Like too much sugar and not enough sleep. A boneless, tingling mirth that swept him as Nicky sat carefully beside him, legs tucked to one side and bending to drop indulgent kisses on his forehead.

“You alright?”

“Yeah.” He covered his face with both hands. Hot, a bit sweaty with exertion. Managed to hold it together for all of four seconds before he went again, snorting into his hands. Nicky laughed as well and slapped him gently on the thigh. “Sorry.”

“What for?”

“Dunno.” He opened his eyes to peek through his fingers. “You okay?”

“I'm okay.” Nicky had wiped his hand off on Mark's pyjama bottoms, which he'd probably have to take off in a minute judging by the crust starting to stick him to the fabric. “That was really sexy.” Fingers gentled at his cheek, pried his hand away. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He sighed. Nicky kissed his forehead again and lay down, snuggling up. Mark could feel his erection. Wanted to do something about it right around the time he pulled himself together. “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“For... you know. I usually um... last a bit longer?”

“Don't worry about it.” Their hands settled carefully together on Mark's chest. “I remember my first time. I went off in about five seconds. She'd barely touched it.”

“I'm not technically a virgin.”

“Yeah, but you know what I mean.” Nicky looked up, smiling. “Anyway, it's not like we don't have time to get your stamina up. Plenty of practice ahead. Considering it was my first go, I'm pretty pleased with myself. Not every day you get that sort of reaction.”

“What reaction is that?” Mark glared playfully. “I was very dignified.”

“Nobody's dignified when they come,” Nicky chuckled. “Stupid noises, stupid faces. I've shagged some stellar looking lasses who turn into utter Teletubbies when they're going off.” Mark snorted.

“Was I Tinky-Winky or Laa Laa?”

“Neither. You know Button Moon?” Mark nodded. He did. Mostly because occasionally Nicky would find a rerun of that shitty old kid's show on in the afternoons and get absurdly excited about it. “Mrs Spoon.”

“Mrs... fucking Spoon?” Mark stared in horror. “She's a bottle.”

“And her hair's a toilet brush,” Nicky said triumphantly, running his hand through Mark's, though Mark swatted him away. “And she's got spoons for arms and a bowl for a face and she's friendly and helpful on adventures.” He grinned proudly. “Just like you.”

“Fuck you.” Mark swatted him again, but was too busy laughing to make much impact. Nicky was giggling too. “Dickhead.” He bent for the kiss Nicky was stretching for. “Well if I've got spoons for arms I'll be no good doing anything with them.” He swiped at Nicky's crotch meaningfully. “Just have to let them dangle here, spooning away.” Nicky snorted when he went limp on purpose. “Poor useless spoon arms.”

“If you're thinking Mrs Spoon didn't give Mr Spoon a handy behind the spaceship, you're dead wrong.” Nicky winked at him. “Deleted scene.”

“Obviously.” They smiled fondly at each other. “You really think this is going to work out? Off the boat, I mean.”

“Don't see why not.” Nicky rolled on, then sat up. “I like you. I trust you. I fancy you. You make me laugh and I can talk to you about stupid shit and I miss you when you're away. If anything makes sense, this does. Even when it doesn't.” A hand caressed his cheek, and Mark felt himself settle, wondered if all his insecurities and worries were just that, because when he sat up and pulled Nicky into a hug he felt more at home than he ever had. “I'll never not need you,” Nicky sang quietly, making Mark snort into his chest.

“I love you,” he murmured, closing his eyes to better listen to Nicky's heartbeat. Fingers stroked through his hair. “My pyjamas are chafing the hell out of me.”

“Wondered when you'd do something about that.” Nicky kissed his forehead. “Want to run a shower? We can see what those spoon arms are like in the wet.”

“In a minute.” Breathe out. Breathe in. Just letting himself be, wrapped in the warmth of someone who loved him, without agenda or exception.

Then he climbed up and let himself be pulled to the bathroom.

  
  


*

  
  


“Rightthere-rightthere-rightthere...” Nicky gasped. Twisted. Mark growled and wrapped tighter around him, spooning from behind and his hand moving faster at Nicky's instruction.

Not for the first time that morning. Not even for the second, though he wasn't sure it could be measured in concrete events. He couldn't stop. Couldn't get enough of Nicky. They'd done it in the shower, Mark with a handful of shower gel and pulling Nicky up in slow strokes, trying to take it carefully. Wanting to feel every inch of him and get to know this other side of Nicky. The one that was raw and sweet and sexy. Wanted to find out what turned him on and what touch he liked.

He hadn't been wrong yet.

“Mark!” Nicky clawed at his thigh, pulling him in. Didn't help that they were both naked, that he was hard again and sandwiched between his own stomach and Nicky's back, slipping in sweat. Torture. Perfection. Nicky's other arm up and back and groping desperately at his hair while Mark bit hard kisses to his shoulders, breathing in soap and shampoo and the golden smell of him, the one that was arousal and urgency and made him push harder, twist his wrist.

Nicky came with a gurgling groan, fingernails scratching a deep brand in his thigh. Mark kissed him slowly down. Pecking his shoulders and nape, down his spine and across his hip until Nicky stopped trembling and sagged, heaving with dazed breaths.

“Mm.” When Mark looked up his eyes were closed, lips parted. “Do it again.”

Mark chuckled and stayed there while Nicky flopped over onto his back. Nicky's cock was soft and sticky, limp across his thigh. Mark kissed it experimentally. Felt a sensitive flinch.

“Okay?”

“Mmhm...” Nicky sighed and folded his arms behind his bed. “Never been little spoon before.”

“It was alright?”

“It really was. Thought it'd be weird having a knob that near me arse, but apparently it's a massive fucking turn on. Not that I'm letting you bum me,” he added quickly. Mark shrugged. “It's funny, but it's actually kind of like... I dunno. You're a lad, so I know if you start getting fresh I can just crack you in the jaw and it won't turn into an incident.”

“You like being with a lad so you can hit me?”

“No. Not like that.” Nicky chuckled. “Just... it's different. Like girls you can pick up and they're delicate and that. I'm not worried about hurting you if I go too hard.” Kian had liked it hard. It was an unwelcome thought. Mark pushed it away and bent back down instead, began to kiss up his inner thigh instead, addicted to the smell. Nicky was heaven. “Like, I was trying to convince myself it was just you, but maybe there's something in this shagging lads thing after all.” Mark bit, glaring. “Not that I'm going to shag other lads.”

“Good.” It was muffled by Nicky's thigh. Nicky laughed and ruffled his hair. Mark let go with a pop. “Are you going to shag other girls?”

“No. I never shag about, if it's serious.” Nicky hesitated. “Is... it serious?”

“I think I want to try to find out,” Mark admitted. Couldn't help but smile up at him when Nicky grinned, his face utter sunshine. “Do you still want to spend the day apart?” The sun was up now, though just barely. He'd hardly slept.

“Are you still going to stay in the room all day having a nap?”

“Maybe not the whole day.” He closed his eyes, felt Nicky begin to stroke his hair. “It's been a big twenty-four hours.”

“It has.” A playful tug. Mark nuzzled his thigh in response. “How about we sleep for a bit longer, then I'll set my alarm and hit the gym around nine, give you your beauty rest.” Mark's reply was a yawn. “Get up here.”

He stumbled up in a crawl, eyes barely open, and when he collapsed it was into strong arms that pulled him in, a kiss on his forehead.

“Love you, Nico,” he mumbled, already drifting. Felt Nicky breathe him in.

“Love you too, babe,” Nicky whispered back. “Get some sleep.”

  
  


*

  
  


“Sure you don't want to come?”

Mark didn't really reply. Spread on his front and the blankets half over his head, barely awake. Nicky's alarm had gone off fifteen minutes before and he'd happily drifted, watched Nicky get up and dressed, completely unperturbed by wandering around the room naked.

Which wasn't really new for Nicky, but there was something nice about it. Being allowed to look. Not because it was a peepshow, but because Nicky was comfortable and didn't mind Mark seeing him.

“Sleep,” he mumbled, when Nicky bent to kiss his cheek. “Go 'way.”

“Sexy,” Nicky murmured. Mark felt himself smile, swelling out while Nicky nibbled playful kisses at his ear. “How about I meet you at breakfast around eleven, outside near the coffee machine?” Mark mumbled agreement. “Be good.”

“Never good.” He closed his eyes again, snuffled into the pillow with a yawn.

Then Nicky was gone, the door closing quietly behind him.

Mark pulled the blankets up over his head.

  
  


*

  
  


He didn't really go back to sleep. Dozed, for a while, but the sun was up and the slow swell of the water rocked him carefully awake. When he finally staggered out and onto the balcony, it was to a bright summer's day, the water a field of sparkling grey-blue that stretched unbroken to the horizon.

One more day at sea. He couldn't believe it was almost over. Felt, at the same time, like he'd been here forever, in their strange little microcosm of real life.

He was hungry. Still half an hour until he was supposed to meet Nicky, so he got ready slowly, stumbled into some clothes and combed his hair and stepped barefoot out into the hallway, still yawning. Took the lift up and eventually made it to the buffet in time to join a lengthening queue for coffee.

Still no sign of Nicky. He was fifteen minutes early, he supposed, and Nicky would probably be still running or whatever it was he did down there, punishing himself like that.

Though maybe there was something in it. He really was beautiful. Flat planes and hard muscle hidden by soft edges. Not ripped, but strong and lean and smooth when Mark had licked down his stomach and found the arrow of pelvis that lead to a hard cock nestled in a neat square of ginger.

He'd thought about feeling self-conscious. For his softness, laziness. For untidy hair and the weird birthmark on his back and the pimple he could feel coming up on his chin.

But then Nicky had looked at him and...

It was different. From being with that girl a couple years ago. From being with Kian, even. It had felt like more. Not like sex, though that had been brilliant, but like being sexy. Being loved and cared about and seen as not what he thought he was, but what Nicky thought he was. Didn't ever want that feeling to go away, because whenever Nicky looked at him like that, Mark couldn't help but look at him too, and feel something growing in his stomach that warmed and blossomed and rose up into his chest and throat and fingertips and made him want to shut the world off so they could have each other forever, just like that.

He realised he was smiling, that he was almost at the front of the queue for the coffee machine. Made two without even thinking about it and carried them both over to a table to settle down in the sunlight.

Beautiful day. Sun out, a drifting pattern of pure white clouds stitched into the bright blue sky. Other couples walking around and maybe this was what they felt like all the time, when he was rolling his eyes at them being all over each other. An odd sense of softness inside that needed a hand or a kiss. Just needed someone to say his name like _that._ Needed to say it back because there weren't enough words for the rest of it.

He was grinning into his coffee when a shadow fell across his table.

Mark looked up.

“Hi.”

“Kian.” He smiled thinly, got a pale imitation of a nod in return. Kian ran a hand awkwardly through his hair. “What's up?”

“You um...” Kian glanced around. “Where's Nicky?”

“Gym. He'll be up in five minutes.” Mark checked his watch. More like ten, but there was no need for Kian to know that. “What can I do for you?” He meant it to sound cold. Didn't need this right now. Really didn't. Not while everything was going so well.

“I thought we should talk.”

“About what?” Mark took a casual sip of his coffee, forced himself to, even though it stuck in his throat.

“About...” Kian shifted awkwardly. “I um... did you tell him? Like...”

“What business is it of yours?”

“Mark...” Kian crossed his arms. “He should know, shouldn't he? After what we did. What I found. He's nice and...”

“Sorry, are you trying to tell me about my boyfriend?” Mark shot back. “Because I don't really think it's your area of expertise, Kian.” He saw pale cheeks go slightly pink. “Seriously. What do you want to do here? You were shite to me in highschool, and now you're trying to get involved in my relationship because... why? I tried to comfort you despite my best fucking judgement and we had a weird two minutes? Get over yourself. You're not that special.” He took another sip of his coffee while Kian went red.

“We had sex though and...”

“We didn't,” Mark said quickly, just so Kian wouldn't continue having that thought out loud when Nicky could walk up at any point. “I had sex with Nicky this morning. It was fucking lovely. If you think what we did even comes close to sex, I hate to think what your sex life's like.” Blue eyes dropped. “You left a mess on my sheets, that's all.”

“I....” Kian swallowed. “You're right. Um.” He bit his lip, then looked back up. “Are you going to say yes?”

“Pardon?”

“The... the ring.” Kian scratched his elbow. “Are you going to say yes?”

“What does it matter to you?”

“I suppose it doesn't.” Kian blinked, and Mark realised there were tears in his eyes. Couldn't find it in himself to care when he was too busy trying to shut down this fucking situation before Nicky arrived. “You know, I used to think you were nice? Back in school. You always seemed nice.” He took a breath, like he was about to say something, then shook his head while Mark stared in surprise.

Kian stalked off without saying goodbye.

Mark looked into his coffee, not sure what he was supposed to feel about that.

“Hey.” Nicky landed heavily in the seat across from him with a breathless grin, sweaty tank-top hanging loose around his arms and neck. “What did he want? Cheers.” He picked up the coffee Mark had gotten him.

“Dunno. Just... said something about school.”

“He's not still giving you grief?” Nicky's eyes went worried and savage all at once. Mark loved him for it. “Because I can...”

“It doesn't matter,” Mark said firmly. Nicky studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly and lifted his coffee to his lips. “How was the gym?”

“Great. Starving.” He put the mug down and stood back up. “Mind the table. You want eggs and sausages?” Mark nodded. “Brilliant. Back soon. Love you.” A hand alighted on the back of his head to guide him up into a kiss. Nicky winked when it broke. “Hey there.”

“Hey.” Mark smiled back. “Bacon?”

“On it.” Nicky charged off, top flapping in the ocean air and skin golden in the sunlight.

Mark turned back to his coffee.

 


	12. Chapter 12

There wasn't an enormous amount of difference between spending the day together as a couple and what they'd already been doing. They wandered around the ship, attended bingo again, had some lunch and a few cocktails on deck. Nicky went for a swim while Mark curled up on a deckchair nearby and pretended to read a book instead of ogling his...

Boyfriend.

It felt different. Like adding colour to a black and white picture. The outline had always been there, but there were little things. The way Nicky's hand brushed his as they went down the stairs, the grin when Nicky waved for Mark to watch him cannonball. Standing in line for the buffet and having a head lean on his shoulder for half a moment and looking around to see eyes closed and a content smile.

“Good book, Mrs Spoon?”

“Fine,” Mark chuckled, and navigated the straw into his mouth. This was the only cocktail they hadn't tried yet. A pink and red thing that tasted sour and sweet at the same time. It wasn't his thing but it'd do. Nicky flopped down beside him on the other lounger. “Nicky...” Droplets of water flew off sodden hair and onto the pages.

“You weren't reading it anyway.”

“I was.”

“You were drinking and having a perve,” Nicky retorted.

“I might have wanted to read it later.”

“Now you know where you're up to. Look, I've marked the page.”

“Thanks,” Mark drawled. He closed the book. Nicky dropped his sunglasses on and took a sip of his own drink. “Stop at Liverpool tomorrow. Can't believe it's almost over.”

“I know.” A hand reached out for his. Mark took it. “Back to the real world. At the barracks from next Tuesday. Should be starting trainee placement in a month or so. Following real officers around and all that.”

“Excited?”

“Nervous.” Mark was surprised. Nicky wasn't usually the type to admit to being anything but brave. “Or... not nervous. Not sure what to expect. I think I've got all these pictures in my head of what it's going to be like but I don't know really.”

“I know what you mean.” Nicky tilted his head. “I've got the theory, but once I actually get up in front of a class it's all different.”

“That's it,” Nicky agreed. “I think partly I'm worried I won't be good at it. I put everything into football and that was a waste. Then the same with Georgina. What if I've trained for years and now it turns out this was pointless as well? What if I'm just not...” He bit his lip. Mark squeezed his hand tighter.

“You'll be great,” Mark promised. Nicky shook his head disbelievingly. “I believe in you.”

“You always do, don't you?” Nicky said softly. Mark shrugged. It came as naturally as breathing. “Come on.” He scooped up his drink and stood. Mark clumsily began to collect his book and his glass.

“Where are we going?”

“To shag your brains out,” Nicky announced. Mark snorted.

“You can try.”

  
  


*

  
  


“Are you sure you want to-”

“I'm sure.” Nicky was wriggling down the bed. They'd been making out a while, snogging and groping clumsily. Mark was beginning to get braver. He'd felt shy at first, exposed and not entirely confident in his own abilities. This was easier. Laid facing each other while their hands had found each other in the sunlight spilling in off the balcony.

Nicky was beautiful. He writhed. Pressed. A long slither of sensation and want that wound against him so effortlessly it took Mark's breath away. Lazy kisses and delicate touches.

“Mm...” An open kiss at the root of him, where his cock stretched up and hard against his groin. Mouthing gently at the crease of his balls before a teasing nip made him gasp. “You smell good.”

“Nicky,” he breathed. Let his fingers slip through soft hair. Nicky was looking up. Tongue playing out and finding the curves of him while Mark tried not to feel self-conscious. Tried not to grab Nicky by the hair and push him to the bed. Cheeky blue eyes that crinkled when Nicky bent smirkingly and rubbed his face into Mark's crotch.

“That's so sexy,” Nicky purred. Mark managed a thin croak. “Tell me what you like.”

“I don't...” Fuck, he didn't know. Had been too caught up faking the right responses he'd never thought about it. Nicky was looking up, though. Soft and considering. Mark stared back stupidly.

“Poor love.” A kiss caught the underside of his erection, making his eyes roll back. “Like Bambi. It's gorgeous.” Mark opened his mouth to argue, lost the words when a tongue darted at the tip, pressing into his slit. “Wanna taste you.” The words were hot on damp, sensitive skin. “Want you to feel so good.”

“I do I just...”

“Mm, tell me.” Nicky bent to gather the head into his mouth. Mark arched, surprised. A slow, tight suck. “Getting warmer?” It came out muffled.

“Yes,” Mark hissed. Nicky drifted lower. His tongue slithered. “Fuck, warmer.”

“You like that?” Nicky pulled off to lap down the side, then back up. Mark suspected his eyes were bulging out of his head. He engulfed Mark again, sucking down low.

“God, Nicky.” Blue eyes looked up in a challenge. Mark's toes curled. Heat and wet. Moving. A hand pressed to his groin to stop him thrusting up. He whimpered. Fingers cradled his balls, shifting in a roll. “W-warmer. I.”

A groan rumbled over him. He echoed it. Felt the suck go harder while he bobbed carefully through slick lips wrapped over the hardness of teeth.

It was heaven. Nicky was heaven. They'd played around, touched each other, but this was different. A startling since of intimacy and vulnerability he hadn't expected. Nicky moved. Tested. One hand making soothing tracks up his thigh. Other pressing to his groin, palming up the shaft. Over the head while Nicky sucked deep kisses down the underside of his cock then up again to swallow him down, tongue moving slow, then fast when Mark's legs bunched and spread, his breath coming in hardening pants.

“Nicky.” Squeezed his eyes shut. “Warmer. Hot. That's...” His hand knotted into the one steadying his hip. Nicky squeezed back, guided him deeper then pulled back, hand moving fast while he lapped torture over the head. “Nicky.”

“Mine,” Nicky murmured. Mark shouted a prayer into the pillow. “Oh fuck, babe. Do you want it?”

“Yes,” Mark gasped. “Yes. Oh.” Never been like this. Like being brought up and up and up. Nicky was watching him fall apart. Peeling him apart. He clawed the sheets with his free hand, yanking them into a bunch. “Nicky.”

“Yours.” He was caught in a last, intense suck, one that dragged up while Nicky's hand followed. Felt the leak, the shudder of everything tensing while Nicky pumped a rhythm. “Just you and me.” Tongue darting at the head. Mark looked down. Nicky's eyes intense, mouth open while his grip did the work. Obscene. Accepting. He couldn't.

“Nicky.”

“Mark,” Nicky breathed, while Mark cried out and let himself go.

  
  


*

  
  


“You keep smiling like that people will think you've gotten laid.”

Mark scowled playfully. He couldn't help it. The moon was bright, the stars were out, the water was calm, and Nicky was sat snuggled against his side on the balcony, robe half open to reveal skin still damp from the shower.

“Think you could go again?”

“Not yet.” He looked down into an eager grin. There was a hand trying to creep into the front of his own robe. He batted it away.

“Just wanna touch.”

“Let him recover first.” Nicky pouted. “Come here.” Nicky grinned and clambered into his lap, arms around his shoulders. His robe flopped open. Soft and gorgeous. Mark let his hand play over it.

“Thought you said not yet?”

“You don't need to recover, apparently,” Mark pointed out. Nicky was already hardening in his hand. Mark playfully flicked the tip with his thumb. Nicky moaned. It was one of the things he liked, Mark had discovered. He'd gone down on Nicky for what felt like hours. Exploring and feeling not as sure as Nicky had, though it hadn't appeared to be a problem. The noises above him had been very encouraging.

“Do you know what my favourite thing is?” Nicky murmured. Mark looked up into a fond gaze. “I mean, I know we've both been with girls, but we get to be each other's first, you know?” He bit his lip shyly. “Our only, maybe, if it works out.”

“Yeah,” Mark agreed softly, though his stomach was knotting. “Well, let's not think too far ahead. It might not work out.”

“Pessimist.”

“I'm not. I just...” He cradled Nicky's cheek. “You thought you'd be with Georgina forever.”

“I don't want to talk about that.” It came out brittle. Mark nodded. “I'm over her, anyway.”

“Well, if we do break up, at least I know you'll move on quickly.”

“Mark...” It had been the wrong thing to say, Mark knew before Nicky had clambered off his lap and gone to lean on the railing instead, his back stiff. “Don't. It's not funny.”

“I'm sorry.” He pursed his lips. Nicky shrugged and looked away, out to sea. Mark went to stand beside him. “I didn't mean it like that.” He touched Nicky's hand gently, then covered it when he wasn't shaken off. “Just... don't get too ahead of yourself yet. We're having a nice time. I don't want you getting hurt again.”

“You're going to hurt me?”

“I don't _know_ ,” Mark urged. “You can't plan for everything.” Nicky was blinking tears away, and Mark realised this was bigger than him. This was about Nicky, not wanting to lose control. Not wanting to feel like he'd put his heart in and gotten nothing back. Safety and security and other solid things Mark didn't quite know how to provide. “You can't force this,” he said gently. “Stop trying to rush.”

“That's what she said,” Nicky croaked. Mark didn't know what to say. “It's my fault, then.”

“Your fault for what?”

“For pushing...” His hands tightened on the railing. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Mark wrapped him up gently from behind. It was a long, tense moment before Nicky sagged against him. “It's nice not to know what's going to happen next. We never used to and it was good enough for me.” Nicky snorted. “You'd bring over a bottle of vodka and make me watch Button Moon. Now we get to do that with blowjobs.”

“I don't want to lose you too.”

“You won't.” Mark kissed his shoulder. “I'm not going anywhere.”

  
  


*

  
  


“Smile.”

Mark did. Blinked away the flash to find Nicky already standing up.

“Can I see?”

The photographer turned the screen. Mark wandered over. It wasn't bad. Both of them in their suits, snuggled together in front of a grey backdrop. Looked like a school dance photo almost, except Mark had never been to his. He'd bunked off instead. Let his parents drop him off then wandered to the video arcade down the street to waste pennies on Space Invaders and bopping crocodiles on the nose, then gone back to let them pick him up at the end.

He'd only been the once. Kian had locked him in the pitch-black storage cupboard with a chair under the doorhandle. It had been an hour until someone heard him shouting and let him out. He'd brushed off the cobwebs and walked home, arrived just as his mam was leaving to pick him up.

He'd never told her what had happened. Never told anyone.

“We'll frame that,” Nicky announced. “Can I have...” He began to tick some of the boxes on the order form, then wrote down his address. The photographer promised the pictures would be on the way in under two weeks. “Our first official couple photo!” Nicky announced as he bounded back over.

“Landmark,” Mark agreed. Nicky took his hand. “Dinner?”

It wasn't far to the restaurant. They took the stairs up to the next floor and turned left.

“Reservation for Nicky Byrne?”

“Right this way.” A waiter led them over. It was stunning. Soft light illuminating burgundy drapes and black table clothes studded with silver candlesticks. They were taken to the end, a quiet nook between a large tropical fishtank and an open view of the sea. Nicky pulled his chair out.

“Thanks,” he said numbly. Nicky patted his hand.

“Happy anniversary.”

“Cheers,” he snorted. The waiter took their drink orders and floated away, leaving Mark to stare out over the water. “This is really nice.”

“Only the best.” Nicky winked. Mark smiled back. “I'm glad it's you who got to see it.”

“I'm glad too.” The waiter came back with their drinks and Mark sipped his while he read over the menu.

“It's already paid for. Pick whatever you want.”

“Oh.” It looked expensive. “Um. I've never eaten anywhere this fancy.” He looked around them. Self-assured people who seemed quite at ease. He felt abrubtly out of place.

“Me neither,” Nicky whispered conspiratorially. “But as the heir to the Jaffa Cake fortune I expect a certain level of service.” He sat back haughtily in his chair. Mark tried not to giggle. “If the salmon is not crusted in gold I shall be quite vexed.”

“Eejit.” Mark looked back at the menu while Nicky pretended to smoke an invisible cigar and adjust his monacle. “Am I your trophy girl?”

“Ambrose Uppington, inventor of the self-saucing pudding, shall never be anyone's trophy.” Mark covered his mouth to hide a snort. “Perhaps it is I who is not worthy of your affections.”

“Perhaps. How's the wine?”

“Mm...” Nicky sipped his wine. “An aroma of cinnamon and plums, built on grapes plucked during rainstorms on the savannah.”

“Tastes like wine?”

“Exactly like wine. Well noted, Ambrose.”

“More wine?”

“Yeah, get it in there.” Nicky held out his glass while Mark filled it back up. “Pork cutlets and split a crème brulee?”

“Splendid,” Mark agreed.

  
  


*

  
  


Dinner was beautiful. He felt stiff at first, wasn't sure if he was using the right fork, but Nicky pointed out that it probably didn't matter and he relaxed once they were past the salads, focused on how good everything tasted rather than how out of place he felt.

“Is it rude to unbuckle my pants?”

“I'm not going down on you here,” Nicky laughed. Mark rolled his eyes. “We've still got dessert to come.” He leaned over to pat Mark's over-full stomach. “Think you can fit it?”

“I'll manage.” He reached for the wine again. Was a little tipsy bit didn't mind. Nicky began to stroke his thigh gently under the table.

The plates were cleared and the crème brulee came out. Nicky cracked the top gently with a spoon.

“Open up.” Mark did, obediently. Felt the spoon settle on his tongue and then the flavour flood his mouth. Nicky pulled the spoon away clean.

“Oh my god,” he managed, one hand over his mouth while he chewed.

“Good?”

“Mmhm.” He swallowed, reached for the wine while Nicky tasted a spoonful. “Bloody hell. Best thing I've had in my mouth all day.” That got a sharp look. “I stand by my comment.”

“Cheeky git.” Nicky kicked him gently. “It's pretty fantastic.” He licked his lips. “I... did consider putting the ring in it,” he admitted. “Before I organised the carriage-ride.” Mark nodded carefully.

“Why didn't you?”

“It felt cliché. And I didn't want to have to wipe it off when it got dessert all over it.”

“Don't wipe it off. Put it on and save some for later.”

“It's an engagement ring, not a doggy-bag,” Nicky argued. Mark snorted. “Do you think it would have worked?” Mark shrugged. “Like, if I tried it on you would you say yes?”

“We've only been going out two days.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.” Mark took another thoughtful sip of his wine. “Probably not. I'm not really a public display person, to be honest. It'd feel...” He drummed his fingers on the table. “I don't know. I think I'd say yes because there'd be people watching. I'd rather be asked in private, like. Then I could think about it. That's me, though.”

“Fair enough.” Nicky looked slightly crestfallen. “Well... okay. Noted for later.”

“How much later?”

“Dunno. We're just taking it as it comes, right?” Mark nodded in agreement. “I'm going to go to the bathroom.” He stood. “Love you.”

Mark accepted the kiss that brushed to his mouth.

“Love you too.” Nicky smiled. “Come back before I finish the crème brulee on my own.”

  
  


*****

  
  


Nicky ordered another bottle of wine when he returned. Mark didn't know that he needed one, but there was certainly no harm in it. The view was beautiful, the company was always his first choice, and when Nicky pulled their chairs side-by side so they could snuggle against each other he felt warm and at home in a way that settled into him like melted chocolate.

“Sexy boy,” Nicky muttered. A hand slipped beneath Mark's jacket.

“Not too hard on my stomach.” He kissed Nicky's shoulder. “Full.”

“Sorry.” It moved down slightly. There was a pianist at the other end of the restaurant, playing slow mood music. It didn't help the full, sleepy feeling sinking into Mark's bones. “When I inherit the Jaffa Cake fortune we'll eat like this every night.”

“I don't think I could cope.” Mark yawned. Nicky pulled him in closer. “I've had a really nice time”

“Kian didn't ruin it?”

“No.” Mark shook his head. “I don't want to talk about him anyway.” He was caught in a gentle kiss. “Let's go back to the room. I want you.” They connected again. “God, I want you.”

“Yes,” Nicky breathed. “One more and then we'll go.” He reached for the bottle. Emptied it into their glasses. Mark was just taking a sip when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.

“Here are your seats, sirs. Can I offer you any drinks?”

“Speak of the devil,” Nicky muttered. Mark winced. Kian and Shane, two tables over. The free passes. Of course. They hadn't been seen, he didn't think. Maybe they could just...

“Lads.” Shane was waving. Mark tried not to shrink further into Nicky's jacket. “How's the food?”

“Brilliant.” Nicky nodded at them. “Good to see you lads. Kian.” Kian nodded back, then returned to his menu. “Have the crème brulee. It'll change your life.” He squeezed Mark gently. “Just the right size to put an engagement ring in.”

Shane's eyes widened. Fuck.

“No way. Congratulations!” Shane stood up. It was too late. What had possessed Nicky he didn't know. This stupid game they were playing, some sort of reaction to Kian being there. The standard, half-cocked competitiveness Nicky couldn't help indulging.

“Er... thanks.” He let himself be hugged. Kian was still staring at the menu, face red. “We weren't supposed to be telling people yet.” Nicky was oblivious to his glare, was too busy having his hand shaken instead.

“Where's the ring?”

“Needs resizing,” Nicky chuckled. “Thought I had it right but apparently I was underestimating this one's fingers.” He patted his pocket. “Doesn't usually happen.” He nudged Mark playfully while Shane laughed.

“Too much information.” He glanced at Kian. “That's brilliant, isn't it?”

“Yeah, brilliant,” Kian mumbled. He looked up. “Congratulations. Good for you.” His voice was flat. Shane's face was beginning to fall.

“I'm sorry,” Shane said. “Kian, do you have to be rude? It's not hurting you.” Kian looked angrily at his lap. Mark didn't know what to say. Nicky was stepping defensively in front.

“It's fine. He treated Mark like crap in school, I don't see why he should be any different now.” Nicky was swaying slightly, Mark realised. Drunker than he'd thought. “Fuck off, would you? I don't give a crap what your sob-story is, you're a homophobic prick. Nobody wants you here.”

“Nicky...”

Kian stood up. His fists were clenched. Mark put an arm on Nicky's shoulder, felt him strain forward.

“You're right,” Kian mumbled. Two of the waiters were looking concerned as they crossed the floor. “Nobody does.” He glanced at Mark. “I um.” He blinked tears away. “I'm sorry.” He stalked from the restaurant, almost knocking over a waiter as he did.

Shane stared helplessly at them.

“I'm really sorry, I...”

“No. I am.” Mark looked at Nicky. “I...” Too many questions in angry blue eyes.

He ran after Kian, leaving them behind.

 


	13. Chapter 13

“Where are you going?”

“After him,” Mark growled. Nicky had caught up halfway down the stairs. “Why did you have to do that?”

“Do what?” Nicky stumbled slightly then righted himself. “It's not like we're really engaged or anything. I was just...”

“You were just,” Mark laughed bitterly. They turned a corner, out onto the open pool deck. He saw Kian push through the doorway at the other end and picked up his pace. “You're always just. Do you ever ask me what _I_ want?”

“I ask all the time, I don't...”

“You ask when it suits you.” He wove through the crowd. Grass skirts and kids everywhere. The music was too loud. “I told you I wanted to stop. This isn't a _game_.” Nicky grabbed his arm as they shoved through the door. Kian was halfway down the hall, looked back over his shoulder as they barrelled through. “Let me go.”

“He's a prick anyway. I thought you'd...”

“I slept with him,” Mark blurted. The hand on his arm loosened in shock. He couldn't bear to look at Nicky's face. “I slept with him,” he said again. “It didn't mean anything. I just...”

“You said you'd never been with anyone else.”

“I... I hadn't. When you asked me. It was a couple of days later.” He was going red. Wanted to be sick. “I was angry so I.” He stared at his shoes. “He kissed me.”

“You lied to me.”

“I didn't.” The words were hollow. When he looked up Nicky was pale, splotches of red anger high in his cheeks. “It just... you were so upset about Georgina and it was important to you that I hadn't. I didn't want to ruin...” He trailed off. This was stupid. Empty words he couldn't even find the strength to stand behind. “I made a mistake.”

“You made a mistake,” Nicky said flatly. Mark didn't know what to say. “I...” His hands clenched into fists. Shane pushed through the door behind them. “You made a mistake?”

“It was my fault,” Kian said quietly. When he'd come back Mark didn't know. “I went to his room when you were at the gym. I shouldn't have...”

“You shouldn't have,” Nicky spat. “Mark...” He hesitated, eyes stone. His bottom lip trembled. “Fuck you. Okay? You pretend you're sweet and innocent. How many other people you fucked? Huh?” His shoulders squared. Mark took a worried step back. “I _trusted_ you. You fucking whore.”

“Hey, that's not...” Kian was trying to get between them. Kian fucking _Egan_ was defending his honour. “Nicky.” Shane was looking worried.

“Oh fuck off, Kian.” Nicky shoved him away. People were beginning to peer out of the cabins. “Why don't you slut around with someone else's boyfriend? You fucking hypocrite piece of shit.”

“Nicky, you need to...”

“No. I don't need to.” Nicky shoved him again. Kian was going red, eyes blazing, and Mark recognised that look. The one he'd seen a hundred times, peering down at him. He caught Nicky's shoulder. “You're a bully. All you do is fuck up people's lives and get away with it. Why don't you pick on someone your own size?”

His fist swung. There was a spurt of blood.

Kian went down, holding his face.

Mark grabbed Nicky, yanked him back, felt a hand encircle his wrist and then twist, putting pressure and yanking him into an armlock.

Disarm a felon in under two moves. He felt his shoulder wrench and shouted in pain.

Kian was on Nicky's back when security finally pulled them apart.

  
  


*

  
  


“I brought your luggage.”

“Thanks.” Kian's reply was slightly muffled. The ship's doctor had put a plaster above his split lip, dabbed some cream on it to hold it together. It looked red, a bruise starting to spill out around his mouth.

Shane put down the suitcase beside Nicky and Mark's. They'd been escorted to their room to pack, then to the front desk to settle their bill and return their key cards. Now they were sat in the ship's muster station waiting until they hit Liverpool. Security were minding the door.

“Call me when you get back to Sligo,” Shane offered quietly. Kian nodded and didn't reply.

“How's your shoulder?” Nicky muttered, once Shane had left. Mark tested it. A bit stiff but okay. It had hurt like hell at the time.

“It's fine.”

“Oh. Shame.” Nicky scowled at his feet. None of them said anything else until they pulled into port.

They were walked off the ship just after two in the morning. It was overcast and drizzling slightly with rain. Mark pulled his suitcase across the parking lot to where the taxis were. They piled in together. It was a long, silent trip before they arrived at the airport.

Nicky charged off while Mark was still getting his bag out of the car. They caught up with him at the ticket desk.

“There's only one seat left on the next flight to Dublin,” the girl at the counter said. “I've got plenty on the one leaving at nine in the morning?”

“I'll take the seat,” Nicky said softly. She nodded and printed out the ticket. He handed her his suitcase.

By the time Mark had finished organising his own Nicky was gone.

  
  


*

  
  


He and Kian didn't speak much. There wasn't much to say. So much to unravel that it wasn't worth trying to find the end of the thread. Dawn was breaking while they sat in silence in the airport foodcourt, picking over scrambled eggs and toast.

“Not as good as the ones at the breakfast buffet.”

“No,” Mark agreed. These were too runny. “I'd love one of those little apricot pastries about now. The ones with the white frosting.”

“The apple custard ones were my favourite,” Kian sighed. “Had one every morning.”

“I'm sorry. That he hit you.”

“Yeah, well. Probably deserved it.” Kian touched his lip gingerly. “I'm sorry I got between you two. I really...” He ran his hand through messy hair. Looked as tired as Mark felt. “Do you think you'll get back together?”

“I don't know,” Mark admitted. “He'll have to talk to me first. There's a lot of things I love about him, but he's stubborn. And he knows how to hold a grudge.”

“He loves you.”

“He did.” Mark put his fork down, the little appetite he'd had gone. “Maybe it's better. We probably need some time apart. You're together all the time and it doesn't give you much chance to think. We were both in weird places.” Kian nodded. “He's intense. He wants things and I don't know that I'm ready yet. I'm still trying to sort through my own stuff.”

“What sort of stuff?”

“I'm not out yet,” Mark admitted. “Not even to my parents.” Kian's eyes widened in surprise.

“Why not?”

“Maybe because I spent my entire life repressing it so I wouldn't get beat up?” It came out flatter than he expected. Less savage. He realised he didn't have the energy, not any more. Not with Kian sitting across from him with a split lip, picking at runny eggs.

It all seemed so far away.

“Was I really that awful to you?”

“It doesn't matter,” he sighed. Kian went to speak. “It doesn't. We didn't know each other. We still don't, to be honest. It's all just...” He gestured helplessly. “I'm going to tell my parents when I get home,” he decided. “Might as well.”

“That's brave.”

“Yeah, well hiding it hasn't helped anything.” He found himself smiling, just a little. “I know who I am. I can tell any story I want but I'm gay. That's never changed.” He picked up his fork again, suddenly hungry. “I can figure out the rest.”

“I don't know what I am.” Kian breathed out slowly. “You scared me,” he admitted. “I looked at you and I saw me, and that made me...” He reached out a hand. “I'm sorry.”

“I'm sorry too.” Mark took it. A hesitant squeeze and they separated. “Call me,” he decided. “If you want to talk.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He'd surprised himself with that one. A shy smile was beginning to crawl over Kian's face. Mark smiled back. Felt himself settle into his own body for the first time in memory, the limbs and face he'd been wearing awkwardly for years, a costume that didn't fit. Felt it shift and drape like silk.

The address system crackled to life.

“That's our flight,” Kian announced. Mark nodded and reached for his backpack. “Do you want the window?”

“You take it,” Mark offered. “I'm going to get some sleep.”

  
  


*

  
  


His room felt strange when he stepped back into it. He'd walked Kian as far as the train-station, gotten him on his way to Sligo. It had been surreal. Even more surreal when he'd pulled Kian into a hug, felt arms link behind him and squeeze tight.

“Let me know when you get home safe,” he'd said.

Now he was stood in a messy room that felt too small. Todd looked up.

“Hey. Where you been?”

“Er...” Mark blinked back. “Holiday.”

“Oh. Cool.” His room-mate stood up. “I was going to bring a date back tonight.”

“Oh.” He wanted to sleep. Really wanted to sleep. “Okay. Cool. I'll make myself scarce then. What time?”

“Back around ten?” Mark nodded.

Todd left half an hour later, in a whirl of bad cologne. Mark sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his suitcase.

He grabbed the handle and dragged it out into the hall.

  
  


*

  
  


His parents were surprised to see him. Even more surprised when he lugged in a suitcase full of dirty clothes, hugged them, and went up to his old bedroom. Five hours later he came down sleepily to find his clothes in the wash and his dad cooking dinner.

“He's alive,” his mam chuckled. Mark collapsed blearily across from her at the kitchen table. “Should I ask why there was a plane ticket from Liverpool in your suitcase?”

“Probably not.” He rubbed his eyes. “It's been a really weird couple of weeks.”

“I daresay it has.” She ruffled his hair. “Tell us when you're ready.”

“I am.” She tilted her head. “Ready. Um.” His dad glanced over his shoulder. “Sit down for a minute?”

“Let me get this pasta on.” His dad tipped some into the pot, stirred it, then nodded. He sank down beside Mark's mam. “What do you need, lad?”

“I.” He looked between them. His mam took his hand between her own.

He closed his eyes and let out a breath.

  
  


*

  
  


He stayed at his folk's place for a week. It was nice there. Welcoming. They shrugged off his revelation with the kind of acceptance he would have expected with telling them the grass was green. His dad asked if he had a fella then.

He told his brothers over dinner. They both nodded and asked if there was dessert.

That night he lay awake, disoriented by a bed that didn't rock in the waves. A narrow bed he inhabited on his own, no-one to reach for in his sleep.

The next morning he dropped by Kian's place.

He got a gasp, a hug he suspected had surprised them both. When they let go Mark asked if he wanted to go for a walk, and so they did. Through the woods and down by the lough, Mark carefully telling the story of the last few weeks while Kian nodded and kept silent, his feet occasionally kicking small rocks into the undergrowth.

“You're sort of an arsehole,” Kian said finally. Mark nodded.

“I sort of am.” They paused on the shore. “It wasn't about you. It felt like it was but it wasn't. It was about me. I was scared and stupid and.” He stuffed his hands deep in his pockets. “I'm sorry. For how I behaved.”

I'm sorry too.” Kian let go a slow breath. “We're both cowards, aren't we?”

“Maybe,” Mark conceded. “Shane told me what happened with your brother.” He saw Kian stiffen. “It wasn't fair.”

“Nothing is,” Kian murmured. Mark nodded. “I'm going to tell one of the lads at the surf club,” he said. “He's nice and he's said a few things that have made me think...” His tongue darted out to prod the healing cut on his mouth. “If I'm wrong, I'm wrong. Either way I think he'll be alright with it.”

“What if you're right?”

“Then I might test the waters and see if he wants to go get dinner or something.” Kian's cheeks were going red. Mark couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. “Fuck off. It probably isn't anything.” He shoved Mark gently. Mark shoved him back.

“Let me know how it goes.”

“I will.” Kian smiled. “Are you going to talk to Nicky?”

“I don't know.” They began walking again. “I'm not sure how to.” He glanced at Kian. “I don't know how I feel, you know? He's my best friend.”

“Do you love him?”

“I'm not sure,” he admitted. It felt unreal. Cast out adrift on the sea, a series of holiday snaps that had happened to someone else. “I'd like the chance to find out.”

“You should call him.”

“I will.” Mark kicked at a pebble, which went splashing into the water. “Once I figure out what I'm going to say.”

  
  


*

  
  


He called Nicky's parents place when he got home. They said sorry, but Nicky was back at the barracks and did he want to leave a message? He thanked them, but declined, then began to dial another number.

“Hello?”

It was Nicky's voice. Soft and impatient.

Mark hung up.

His first day at Nessan's went better than he expected. He was terrified. Spent his whole morning trying not to throw up, but by lunch he felt like he had a handle on it. The kids were bright and friendly and the other teachers were supportive.

Within two weeks the theory had bled away and he was doing it without training wheels, more confident than he'd felt in his life.

He called Nicky again. Heard a voice say hello before he hung up. Sat on his bed with his head in his hands wondering what he was playing at. The next week when he rang they said Nicky wasn't there, sorry, he'd left the academy to start his placement and did Mark want a message forwarded on?

He thanked them, but declined.

But he found himself looking. Walking through town and seeing a uniform and slowing, wondering if there was a familiar face attached. There never was, of course. Maybe Nicky wasn't even in Dublin. Maybe he was elsewhere, some village in the middle of the country, arresting sheep for trespassing and booking tractors for speeding.

He didn't know. All he knew was Nicky wasn't here.

Kian called. They spoke a lot. A tentative friendship that didn't so much blossom as tendril and grow obstinate buds and shoots. Kian was seeing someone. A boy he'd met through the lad at the surf club, who had turned out not to be gay but had a very attractive friend. He was thinking of telling his parents.

Mark congratulated him. When they came down to Dublin for a weekend away they all had dinner together. The lad seemed nice, doted on Kian, and for the first time Mark saw someone else in Kian's eyes. Someone who was tentative and shy when he held the hand of the man beside him, but not angry. Not embarrassed or looking for someone to blame.

It was mid-term break when he came back to the room to find a large envelope on his bed.

“What's this?”

“Dunno.” Todd didn't look up from his magazine. “Came in the post.”

“You don't say,” Mark drawled. He tore it open. Pulled out a glossy sheet of paper and turned it over, not sure what it was.

Nicky stared back at him.

His breath caught. Two black suits in front of a grey backdrop, cheesy smiles. Nicky's hand was in his. It looked like something from a school dance.

He sat down. Something else fluttered to the floor. A post-it with a mobile phone number on it.

_My new number. In case you want it._

Mark looked back at the picture, not sure whether to laugh.

  
  


*

  
  


It was just after four when there was a knock on his door.

Mark stood. Hadn't known what to wear. He'd felt stupid even thinking about it. He'd never worried about it before, had been perfectly happy sat around in tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt.

He breathed out and reached for the doorknob.

Nicky stared back at him.

“Hey,” Mark said. Nicky nodded.

“Hey.” They studied each other. Mark still in his work trousers, Nicky in jeans and a hoodie. His hair was cut shorter.

“Look, I just wanted to say...”

“Save it,” Nicky interrupted. A bottle was thrust into his hands as he shoved past. Cheap vodka. “It's almost time.”

“For what?” Nicky was rummaging through the mess on the floor. Mark stared helplessly as he triumphantly snatched up the remote and began to flick through the channels.

_We're off to Button Moon... we'll follow Mr Spoon..._

“Program's on.” Nicky plonked down on the bed and looked at Mark, gaze a challenge, then began to smile. Mark smiled back, laughed when Nicky patted the empty space beside him. “Pour us a drink. It's the one with the Shoebox Station.”

“Of course it is.” Mark reached for a bottle of warm coke he'd been keeping under the bed and sat down, pulling himself cross-legged. A hand settled gently on his knee. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Nicky squeezed, then pulled away. Mark handed him a drink. Clinked their glasses when Nicky offered. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” Mark took a sip. “We're going to talk about it?”

“We're going to talk about everything,” Nicky agreed. “But let's not rush it, okay? We don't need to jump ahead.” He punched Mark gently on the shoulder. Mark nudged him back. “Hello Tina, hello Mrs Spoon, hello Eggbert,” he recited along with the show. Mark laughed.

“Eejit.”

“Yeah.” Nicky settled closer. Without thinking Mark slid an arm around his waist, felt a head settle on his shoulder. “Love you, Mrs Spoon.”

“Love you too,” Mark murmured.

 


End file.
